


Pros and Cons

by memorizingthedigitsofpi



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, F/M, Gen, Vaughn is such a perv, academic conference, academics are horny, because i do love them, brotp not otp this time, but only kind of, death to romantic tropes, embarrassing encounters, euphemistic bathroom issues, my otp is also my brotp, old people hitting on teenagers, sharing a hotel room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-03-24 21:17:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3784573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memorizingthedigitsofpi/pseuds/memorizingthedigitsofpi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>FitzSimmons attend an academic conference full of lecherous old researchers, bad food, good friends, and entirely too much information. </p><p>A will-they/won’t-they, BroTP or OTP fic that crushes tropes beneath its feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1: Getting There is Half the Battle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badscienceshenanigans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badscienceshenanigans/gifts).



> y'all can blame her for this one

"The thing about academic conferences that non-academics don't know is that they are primo pick up joints for nerds. The booze is flowing, everyone has a hotel room, and there’s no aphrodisiac in the world as potent as being done with your presentation."

The grin Fitz offered his professor was unenthusiastic at best. It would be a gross understatement to say that the last thing in the world he wanted to think about was Dr. Vaughn getting laid.

"Not only do the attendees know what the hell you’re talking about," Vaughn continued, waxing poetic about the erotic possibilities inherent in presenting. "They’re actually interested in hearing _more_." He leaned forward now, pinning Fitz to his chair with a look of warning. "That can be a heady experience for people who spend a lot of their time either dumbing down their research or watching people’s eyes roll back into their heads every time they bring it up in conversation," he said, wagging a finger at his pupil before leaning back in his chair again with a self-satisfied smile wider than even the Cheshire cat could compete with.

"Basically, what I’m getting at is this: if you’re looking for a guaranteed action night, be a smart person at a conference. It’s in the bag."

Fitz nodded, face resembling nothing so much as a rabbit caught in the headlamps of an oncoming train. "Thanks for the advice, sir," he said, clearly lying. "But I've presented at conferences before now." He moved to leave his seat but was once more pinned by a Vaughn glare. "Sir?"

"Last time you presented was what? The spring?" he asked gruffly.

Fitz nodded again, not following. "That's right," he confirmed.

"Well then," Vaughn continued as if it were the most obvious information in the world. "This is your first time presenting since you turned 18." When Fitz's face remained blank and uncomprehending, he explained further. "You're _legal_ now," he said, brows raising and face prompting understanding.

Fitz's confusion lasted another half-second before it clicked. "Um, sir..." he started awkwardly. "I mean, I'm, um, flattered?" he stammered. "But..."

Vaughn rolled his eyes and blew a raspberry. "Not **me** , Fitz," he waved the suggestion away. "The other attendees," he explained.

"Ohh," Fitz nodded again. He really didn't know how to end this conversation, and he was starting to seriously consider jumping out of the window. Third floor. That'd mean broken legs at least. He pondered that for a moment, weighing his ability to walk against hearing more on this topic from his professor.

"Sir?" Jemma poked her head into the office. "Sorry I'm late, but I had to wait for my last DNA sequence to finish."

Fitz's eyes widened as he realized that Simmons was due to get the same lecture he had. From the same source. "Don't worry, Sir," he almost shouted at Vaughn. He stood up quickly and grabbed his bag, rushing over to where Simmons was entering the room and pushing her back out of it. "I'll tell her," he said, escaping from the room and putting a hand on the knob to close the door behind him. "Wouldn't want you to have to repeat yourself," he chuckled desperately.

Vaughn nodded and waved them off before turning back to his stack of papers to grade.

"What the--"

" _Trust me_ , Jemma," he sighed, wiping a hand across his forehead. "You do _not_ want to know."

\-------------------------

"I can't believe you got a fake ID," Fitz shook his head as he shoved his bag in the trunk of the rented car.

" _I_ can't believe you have to be 21 years old to hire a car," Simmons replied archly, placing her own bag more carefully next to his. "Why didn't you want to drive down with Dr. Vaughn, anyway?"

Fitz shuddered as he walked around the car and got in. "I think _both_ of us should just try to avoid him this weekend."

"Why won't you just _tell_ me," Jemma groaned in frustration as she sat behind the wheel, "What  could he have possibly said to you in his office that was so bad?" She slammed the door harder than was necessary and winced guiltily.

Fitz shook his head vehemently. "No way, Jemma," he said flatly. "It's bad enough _I_ have to know it." He fixed her with a haunted look as he buckled himself in. "Let me save you the trauma."

"Fine," she rolled her eyes as she put on her seatbelt. "Then I'll just turn on the radio," she turned the key in the ignition.

"But I've got my ipod," Fitz started.

"Your ipod doesn't have advertisements," Jemma grinned cruelly.

"You wouldn't!"

She fiddled with the dial until she heard a commercial. "Wouldn't I?"

She hummed to herself as the over-enthused voice pierced the car with its message of ' _incredible savings!'_ and reversed out of the parking lot. When Fitz reached out a hand to move the dial, she slapped it away.

"But..."

"Driver chooses the music, Fitz," she smiled beatifically. "And I'm the only one here with the right ID."

Fitz groaned and slouched down in his seat, dreading the next three hours.

Jemma sat up straight, feeling very happy with herself. All she had to do was keep switching the station to commercials. This shouldn't take long at all.

\-------------------------

"How can you _eat_ at a time like this?" Jemma asked, still slightly gagging over Vaughn's comments.

Fitz popped another cookie in his mouth and chewed a few times before answering. "How can you _not_?" he asked, spraying a few crumbs. "Lunch time was _hours_ ago."

Jemma brushed a few stray bits off her sleeve. " _Two_ hours ago," she specified. "And we'll be at the hotel by 6:00 for the welcome reception. You can eat then."

He paused in his reach for another cookie and slowly turned to look at her in disbelief. "Do you _really_ want me going to that reception hungry?" he asked.

She reflected on the wine and cheese three weeks earlier when Fitz had relieved a server of his entire tray. He'd spent the evening devouring little cubes of cheddar and building miniature log cabins out of toothpicks. Some of them had been quite good.

"Fine," she sighed, giving up. "Just try not to get crumbs all over everything." She wrinkled her nose, "Honestly, you eat like a child."

"Cuz I'm so cute?" Fitz asked, giving her a wide, chocolatey smile.

She laughed. "Sure, you keep telling yourself that."

\-------------------------

"Welcome to the Ramada Inn, do you have a reservation?" asked the front desk clerk. She looked like she'd been having a particularly difficult evening.

"Yes," Jemma answered, smiling politely. "It's under Simmons."

The clerk typed for a moment. "Here we are," she said smiling back. "A single queen overlooking the lake," she clicked a few fields on the screen. "And I have you paying by Visa?"

"Wait," Jemma frowned. "A _single_ queen?" She waved Fitz over from where he was standing with the bags. "I booked a room with two doubles."

The clerk's smile froze on her face and she went back to the computer. "You're with the conference?" she asked, trying not to look too surprised by their ages.

"That's right," Fitz confirmed. "Is there a problem?"

"There's been a room mix-up," Jemma explained. "She's got us booked into a room with one queen-sized bed instead of two doubles."

Fitz looked at the long line of conference attendees behind them and the slightly harried expression on the clerk's face. "Does that cost more?" he asked.

The clerk shook her head, "They're the same price."

He shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me, as long as it's got a shower and a pillow," he said.

Jemma nodded, "It's fine. I don't want to hold you up," she smiled again.

The clerk looked immediately relieved and tapped a few more keys. "If you'll just sign here," she pointed to a line on the printout of the bill. "And here are your keys."

\-------------------------

"What a lovely view," Jemma said happily as she looked out at the lake.

"Uh huh," Fitz nodded, dropping his bag and immediately darting into the bathroom. "You want to change first?" he shouted over the sound of his pee.

"Alright," Jemma agreed, reaching into her bag for her cocktail dress. "I'll shout when I'm done."

"'K!" Fitz called back, flushing the toilet.

\-------------------------

Jemma finished her makeup and checked her hair one last time. "All done out there?" she called  out.

"Yup, I'm decent!" Fitz called back.

Jemma exited the bathroom to find her friend in a suit and tie... and running shoes. "Fitz!" she sighed. "Your shoes? Really?"

He looked down at his feet. "So that's a no then?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes and stepped into her heels. "If I have to wear uncomfortable shoes to this thing, then so do you," she said firmly.

"Why is that again?" he asked, toeing out of his runners and grabbing his dress shoes from his bag.

"Solidarity."

"Well thank god you're not making me wear a dress, too," he laughed. "I have _not_ got the legs for it."

She chuckled and grabbed her bag. "Ready to go?" she asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he sighed and threw back his shoulders.  Time to go be a prodigy.

 


	2. Day 1: Bad Reception

"It's Leopold, isn't it?" simpered a young woman he assumed was a graduate student. Anyone who'd been to one of these things before would have known better.

"Fitz," he clarified, waving down a server who was carrying what looked like miniature pizzas.

"I knew it!" she smiled, putting a hand on his arm.

He frowned at the hand. And then frowned at the server who was in fact carrying mini bruchetta. Sighing, he stuffed one into his mouth. This was going to be a long night.

\---------------------------

"You must be Jemma Simmons!" smiled another outstretched hand.

Jemma blinked a few times, pasted a smile on her face, and dove into the same conversation she'd already had half a dozen times. Why did they always leave the 'Dr.' part off her name? "And you are...?" she asked politely.

"Dr. Elliot Randolph," he introduced himself. Jemma couldn't help noticing he didn't leave the title off of this own name. "I must say, Ms. Simmons," he took her hand and kissed the back of it. "As much as people talk about your intelligence, I'm surprised I haven't heard about your beauty.

Her smile turned poisonous as she slid her hand out of his. "It's  _Dr._ Simmons, actually," she corrected him, wiping her hand not-so-subtly with her cocktail serviette. "And that's probably because my physical appearance has literally  _nothing_ to do with my research."

She excused herself and looked around to see if Fitz had met his quota of gawkers yet. They usually split up at the start of these things in order to get maximum coverage in the minimum amount of time. 

\---------------------------

Fitz kept his back steadfastly turned to his professor in the hopes of not being spotted. Of course, this meant that he was currently trapped between a potted plant and the kitchens. Unfortunately, this location had yet to lead to better snacking.

He'd already heard three pick-up lines he'd never be able to forget, and he didn't see any way of escaping without alerting Vaughn to his presence.

"Are you from Cern," Vaughn was currently saying to a pretty 20-something physicist with an accent.

"No, actually, I'm--"

"Because you're giving my large hadron an urge to collide with you,'' he interrupted her.

Fitz winced at the line and then again at the sound of the slap. He was getting worried because, at this point, that line didn't even sound that terrible. He had to escape. He was just looking around again to see if he could MacGyver a solution, perhaps wrestle one of the servers and steal a uniform, when he saw Jemma gritting her teeth and approaching.

"No!" he mouthed, trying to shoo her away with his hands.

She nodded her head slightly and jerked her eyes to the side, obviously signalling him to make his escape.

"Run. Away," he mouthed more strenuously, waving both arms frantically.

Instead, she stepped grimly forward and tilted her glass towards their professor. "Dr. Vaughn," she smiled, angling herself so that Fitz would have an escape route. "Are you enjoying yourself?" She once more darted her eyes to the side, hoping Fitz would just take the hint already.

"Jemma!" Vaughn said, and his voice was full of delight. "Jemma, Jemma, Jemma," he was looking her over from her delicately curled hair to her uncharacteristically high heels. "You look positively _womanly_ this evening," he said, leaning in towards her as he tapped their glasses together.

Fitz made a gagging motion behind him as he sidled out of the corner.

"Erm," she stuttered uncomfortably, bringing her glass to her lips and crossing her arms over the cleavage that she hadn't thought showed until Vaughn tried to stare down it. "Thank you?" she said uncertainly.

"What's that you're drinking?" Vaughn asked, moving to put an arm around her.

Jemma's eyes widened in both shock and horror, and she froze. She didn't want to encourage this sort of behaviour, but she had no idea how to stop it without being rude to her instructor.

"Jemma!" Fitz said, walking up as if he'd been looking for her. " _There_ you are!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her out of reach of the older man's arm. "Dr. Vaughn," he nodded cheerfully. "I hope you don't mind my stealing her away, but there's a gravitonium researcher here who Dr. Hall recommended we speak with." He pulled her a bit further away as he spoke.

"Dr. Nguyen?" Jemma asked, legitimately excited.

"Yes, yes," Vaughn answered gruffly. "Of course, of course." He cleared his throat and straightened his posture. "Networking," he continued stiffly. "Key part of a conference." He waved them both off and turned towards the bar. "Off you go, the both of you."

"Thank you sir," Fitz nodded.

"Enjoy the reception," Jemma smiled.

They walked rather more quickly than necessary to the other side of the room.

"What part of ' _run away_ ' was confusing for you?" Fitz hissed.

"I was _trying_ to _help_ you," Jemma hissed back.

"Yeah, well," Fitz mumbled. "Just stay away from Vaughn, alright?"

"Decision already made," Jemma shuddered. "When did he get so...?" she shuddered again.

"When you turned 18?" Fitz snorted.

Jemma smacked his shoulder with her handbag. "Shut up and introduce me to Dr. Nguyen."

"Um. About that...?" he grinned sheepishly.

Jemma sighed. "Alright, let's see if anyone _else_  knows her."

\---------------------------

"Do these shrimp taste funny to you?" Jemma asked, wrinkling her nose at Fitz.

"Hmm?" he asked around a large mouthful of the things. He already had at least a dozen tails on his plate. "Just dip 'em in the sauce. They're fine," he shrugged.

Jemma looked up at the ceiling in an appeal that only she could hear. "Maybe stick to the cheese balls," she suggested. "They seem safe."

Fitz shrugged and grabbed a handful from a passing server. "Think they're gonna give us anything not on a stick?" he asked.

Jemma shook her head and rolled her eyes. Her friend Nevaeh was a biomedical researcher. She should really suggest Fitz's metabolism as a potential research topic.

\---------------------------

"We should really," Fitz paused to catch a peanut in his mouth, "stop coming to these opening night things," he observed.

Jemma scanned the room from where they were currently huddled away beside the stairs. She nodded and caught a peanut, chewing it distractedly. "I know, but..."

Fitz nodded back. "Can't wait til we're older," he sighed morosely. Being the freak show had gotten old years ago.

"You and me both," Jemma commiserated. She tapped his knee and tilted her head.

Fitz threw her another peanut and then rolled his eyes. "Incoming," he whispered as a sandy-haired man with glasses and elbow patches approached.

Jemma spotted him a moment after Fitz and groaned under her breath. She'd already spent almost twenty minutes being lectured at by him and had no desire to hear any more about how _amazing_ he was.

\---------------------------

"I was wondering where you'd escaped to," laughed an even drunker version of the woman who'd been stalking him all night. She'd managed to snare him on his way back from the bathrooms. 

"Escaped?" Fitz laughed nervously. It was actually the perfect word, but he couldn't very well tell _her_ that, could he? She was on the decision board for one of the grants he was applying for.

"But I've got you now," she continued, moving closer and placing a hand on his wrist.

Fitz blushed and took a half step backwards. "Were you interested in discussing my research?" he asked innocently.

The woman's smile soured as her hand fell. "Apparently _not_ ," she replied sarcastically. Throwing her drink back in one long gulp, she placed her glass on a passing tray and lurched towards her next victim.

He overheard her use the same line again and was both relieved and disappointed that he wasn't special.

\---------------------------

"No more splitting up," Fitz declared as he found Jemma once more.

"Agreed," she said with some feeling.

They looked around at the drunken shenanigans now taking place and then looked at each other.

"Go back to the room?" Fitz asked.

"Finish the presentation?" Jemma suggested.

Once they were in the elevator, Fitz asked, "So, how many times did _you_ get awkwardly hit on?"

"How much do you know about [Tupper's Self-Referential Formula](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_s5RFgd59ao)?" she sighed.

Fitz's brows rose in surprise. "That many?" he asked. Usually the number was in the low double digits.

"Vaughn might have had a point."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> referencing Tupper because 1) insanely huge number and 2) insanely cool math stuff  
> also because I'm a huge nerd


	3. Night 1: Bed, Knobs, and Memory Sticks

"Sixth floor," intoned the robot voice of the elevator.

Simmons started to exit, not looking where she was going, and was plowed into by a couple who were definitely eager to get to their own room.

"Excuse me?" she interjected, but the doors started to close with the couple in the way.

Fitz, for his part, was so busy staring at the sheer amount of tongue in front of him that he failed to press the 'door open' button.

"Erm," he said awkwardly, hesitantly poking the gentleman closest to him on the shoulder. "What floor?" he asked, trying not to laugh.

Jemma smacked him lightly in the chest with her clutch and tried not to meet his eyes. She knew that as soon as she looked at him, she was a goner. Instead, she pursed her lips together and stared at the ceiling, breathing through her nose as her eyes watered.

With no answer forthcoming, he pressed all of the buttons and leaned back against the wall. His head tilted to the side and his brow furrowed.

"Don't _watch_ them!" Jemma scolded him in a whisper.

"Why not?" he whispered back. "I doubt they care." He leaned a bit to the side to get a better view.

"It's not polite," Jemma explained lamely. It was also a difficult thing not to do because both of the guys in front of them were, well 'attractive' didn't seem to quite cover it.

"Neither is snogging in a lift," Fitz shrugged. "But that doesn't seem to be an issue for them." His eyes widened at the unmistakable sound of a zipper.

Jemma stopped staring at the mouths and tongues in front of her as her eyes dropped down to see what had just been revealed. "Oh _my_ ," she gasped, one hand fluttering up to the base of her throat.

Fitz looked from the men in front of them to Jemma and back to the men as another zipper was pulled down.

"Twelfth floor," the elevator announced.

"This is your stop!" he practically shouted and gave the man nearest him a bit of a shove.

The couple lurched out of the elevator and the doors closed on Jemma's laughter.

\--------------------------

 Fitz propped himself against the headboard with more pillows than he thought were actually practical for any normal sleeping person while Jemma sat cross-legged in front of him. They each had a laptop on their laps.

"Oof," Jemma sighed. "Can we just get rid of slide 7?" she begged. "It doesn't actually _say_ anything."

Fitz nodded. "Cool graphic or not, we should probably just bin it," he agreed. It was a shame, too. He'd made that graphic himself.

Jemma offered him a piece of licorice as consolation. "It really is a cool graphic," she smiled.

"Yeah, yeah," Fitz grinned back. "I'm over it!"

"Pass the crisps?" Jemma asked, looking at the next slide.

"Uhoh," Fitz commented as he gave her the bag. "You're nervous."

She crunched a chip and nodded. "I'll be fine once we're up there," she reassured him.

He patted her knee affectionately and nodded. He'd yet to see Jemma Simmons fail at anything. He didn't think she was going to start now.

"So, what can we do about the wall of text on slide 9?" he asked to get her mind off things.

\--------------------------

 "Ih oo puh da Co ih ah fwih?" Fitz asked around his toothbrush. 

"Of course," Jemma nodded as she pulled a tshirt and shorts out of her bag.

"Fanks," he grinned, mouth frothing.

"Ugh," Jemma rolled her eyes. "Do you have to do that out here?" she asked.

"Mmhmm," answered, walking over to the TV and flipping channels as he continued to brush.

"Why can't you just do it in the bathroom like a normal person?" she asked, although since they'd had this argument approximately every single time she'd ever seen him brush his teeth there wasn't much rancour in it.

Fitz rolled his eyes back at her, but the sarcasm was marred by his indulgent smile.  "Bo-wing," he intoned.

"Only because you brush longer than any sane person would," she teased, poking him in the ribs to move him from where he was blocking her path.

He scoffed at that. And then coughed as he swallowed a bit of toothpaste. Moving back to the bathroom, he proceeded to spit noisily in the sink and then gargle for the full duration of a video on MTV.

\--------------------------

Jemma rolled over in the bed impatiently. _What_ was taking him so long?

"Fitz?" she called out. "Did you fall asleep in there?"

"No," he shouted back. "I just..."

"Yes?"

The bathroom door opened and Fitz came out looking very sheepish indeed. "Remember when you told me I shouldn't pack at the last minute because I was going to forget something?"

"Well, I know it wasn't your toothbrush," she smiled, sitting up in bed. "So what did you forget?"

He screwed his mouth into an apologetic grimace. "Pyjamas?" he asked, ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Is that all?" Jemma scooted back down under the covers and turned her back to him. "Just wear your pants."

Fitz cringed at the sound of Jemma talking about his y-fronts. Taking a deep breath, he sighed it out and trudged over to his side of the bed.

"Well?" she asked and her frustration wasn't very well-hidden. "Take off your trousers and get in the bed already."

Fitz had to laugh at that. "Can't say I ever thought it'd be _you_ saying that to me," he grinned at her as he unbuckled his belt.

"Ha. Ha," Jemma shook her head good-naturedly. "I'm a bit busy preparing for a presentation to be your sexual fantasy just now," she said drily. "Maybe some other time."

"Wow," he replied just as sarcastically, unzipping his fly and letting his trousers drop to the floor. "You really know how to get a bloke going, Jemma."

"That explains all those men downstairs," she shuddered at the memory.

Fitz draped his trousers over the back of the desk chair and finished unbuttoning his half-undone dress shirt. Taking that off as well, he hung it on top of his trousers. "Then what explains all those ladies chasing after me?" he asked, climbing into the bed next to her.

"Poor eyesight?" she joked.

"Oh, very funny."

"Senility?"

"Laugh it up, Simmons."

"Abject desperation?"

"If you're finished?"

"Insanity?" she asked. "Alright, that was the last one."

Fitz blew a raspberry at her and then turned off the light.

 

 


	4. Night 1/Day 2:Strange Bedfellows

Fitz moaned and folded his pillow over his ears. He looked over at Simmons, lying flat on her back and snoring up a storm. How could someone that small make such a big noise?

He grabbed one of the pillows from the floor and held it over his face to scream into it. She'd promised to bring those nose strip thingies, but apparently he wasn't the only forgetful one on this trip. 

Honestly, it sounded like she was eating her own face. The Balrog made less noise than this.  _How_ was she sleeping through it?

Reaching over to the bedside table, he snagged his phone. "C'mon, internet," he whispered to himself. There had to be  _some_ way to shut her up and get some actual sleep.

\------------------------

Jemma woke up with a full sensation in the bladder region. The darkness of the room and lack of an annoying beeping noise told her it was still the middle of the night. To pee or not to pee?

She shivered and tried to roll over, but a soft mass behind her refused to budge. Ugh. Fitz. Again?

Sighing, she tossed off what little of the blanket she was covered with and got up to go to the bathroom. She left the door open and used the dim light coming in around the curtains to see by. Fitz was out like a light, anyway, and this way she wouldn't trick her brain into thinking it was daytime by turning on the light. 

She washed her hands and padded back to the bed, taking in the blanket burrito that was Fitz. He'd even stolen the extra blanket she'd taken from the closet and reserved for herself. She shook her head and went back to the closet for the other one. Honestly, how he could sleep that way was beyond her.

She lay back down, wall of pillows once more at her back. She must have been snoring. They'd have to track down a chemist at some point the next day so that she could get some nose strips. She hated sleeping on her side.

\------------------------

Fitz scrunched his face up and shook his head back and forth, trying to rid it of whatever was tickling him. 

He pried one eye open and was greeted by Jemma's hand hovering over him. He startled immediately, flashing back to one too many  _Aliens_ marathons, and then relaxed. Looking over, he saw Jemma sprawled on top of the pillows, face first. It might have been cute, if not for the tornado of hair and the softer, slightly muffled snores.

He batted her hand away and rolled back onto his side, burrowing deeper into the blankets. They really should have fought for those two beds.

\------------------------

Jemma reached out blindly to smack the alarm and ended up smacking pillow instead. 

It took her a moment to realize that she was in a much larger bed than usual and her bunk mate was the one who could reach to turn off that incessant buzzing.

"Fiiiitz," she groaned, smacking him with one of the 'bricks' in the pillow wall.

"Mmnnaawwww," he moaned back, turning his face into the mattress. 

" _Fiiiiiiiitz_ ," she tried again, pushing on his shoulder. "Turn it  _offffffff,"_ she whined.

He mumbled something indistinct and probably unflattering and curled even further into the foetal position.

Jemma groaned again and pulled herself right up behind him to try to reach the alarm over him, but her arms weren't long enough.

Sighing and falling back onto the bed, she pulled out her secret weapon.

"Fitz," she poked him in the back. "Fitz," poke. "Fitz," poke. "Fitz, Fitz, Fitz, Fitz," poke, poke, poke, poke.

" _Alright_ ," he finally moaned, raising his head up high enough to see what he was aiming for and then shutting off the alarm.  _  
_

"I don't wanna get up," Jemma yawned, stretching wide enough to almost punch him in the head.

Fitz caught her fist and redirected it, yawning back. "Me neither," he sighed. "Think we could just skip the presentation and sleep all day?"

Jemma rolled onto her face for a moment before hitting the mattress and pushing herself up. "No," she sighed. "Probably not."

Fitz yawned again and sat up. "Yeah, I didn't think so." He smacked his lips together and made a sour expression at his morning breath. "You want to shower first?" he asked. 

She shook her head and reached for her laptop, still yawning. "You go ahead," she nodded towards the bathroom. "I'm going to run through the slides again real quick."

He chuckled as he got up. "You've already got them memorized," he teased, grabbing a fresh shirt from his bag and his trousers from the desk chair. "There comes a point when over-preparation becomes a problem."

"Shut up," she grinned and threw a pillow past him.

"You missed," he stuck his tongue out.

"That was the warning shot," she stuck hers out back at him. "Next time, I aim to kill."

"Fine, fine," he put his hands up in surrender. "I'm going."

"Don't forget to shave!" she called out as the bathroom door was closing. 

"I will if you will," he called back. 

 


	5. Day 2: Everybody Loves FitzSimmons

Jemma tried to her best to look alert an interested in the session, but it was getting increasingly difficult not to yawn. The only thing keeping her awake right now was restraining Fitz who was about two more errors away from just taking over the presentation.

"Did he even study physics  _at all_?" Fitz whispered harshly.

A bespectacled older woman in front of them turned around with a disgruntled expression and Jemma quickly molded her face into an apology. "If he did, he must have failed," the woman whispered back before standing up to leave. _  
_

Jemma's eyes widened and she closed her dropped jaw with a snap.

Fitz, on the other hand, barked a sharp "Hah!"

The presenter and most of the attendees turned to look at them. Fitz beamed back with a snarky, unapologetic grin while Jemma slouched down and tried to pretend they weren't together.

\-----------------------

The conference had planned for 10 minute breaks between sessions, and everyone was honestly trying to keep them under 20 but it wasn't even lunch time yet and things were already off schedule.

"Just plug it in the--"

"I've got it!"

"But it's not--"

"--second will you?" 

"-- _had_ a second and--"

" _There._ Alright?"

"It's so nice to see young couples researching together," whispered the same older woman from earlier to the man next to her.

Fitz looked over at that and frowned in confusion.

"Guess we're not the only ones who wanted to be the next Pierre and Marie Curie," he whispered back, lifting their joined hands and kissing hers fondly.

Fitz looked over at Simmons and then back to the couple, his confused look turning to a sarcastic one. Since when did arguing over a projector hookup mean people were dating? Old people were weird. Shrugging, he moved over to check on the laptop.

"Is it working now?" he asked, looking over her shoulder at the screen.

Jemma gave him a tight smile and nodded. "Ready to go," she confirmed.

He smiled back and gave her a quick side hug to reassure her. "We're gonna be great."

She took a deep breath to calm herself down and then stepped up to the podium. Presentation time.

\-----------------------

Jemma staked out a table by the window that still afforded a good view of the stage. She still couldn't believe that they'd managed to get Zygmunt Gryczynski for the keynote. His work with [Radiative Decay Engineering](http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0003269701955034) had been a fundamental cornerstone of the research she and Fitz had just presented. She straightened her copy of  _Analytical Biochemistry_ and hoped she'd have the nerve to ask him to sign it.

Fitz sat down placing a plateful of food in front of each of them. "Have you seen him yet?" he asked eagerly.

"I don't know!" Jemma replied just as eagerly. "I don't know what he looks like," she laughed.

Fitz laughed back and stabbed his chicken with his fork. "Yeah, I guess we didn't really think this through, did we?" He pushed her journal further towards the middle of the table and nudged her with his elbow. "Eat," he insisted. "Presentation's done now, so you don't have to worry about puking on the front row anymore."

"You're such a mother hen," she grinned, nudging him back. 

"S'part of my charm," he nodded emphatically. 

"Uh huh," she rolled her eyes and paused with a forkful of pasta halfway to her mouth. "If you say so."

\-----------------------

"... sat in on a presentation this morning by two young people who have extended my research in such a creative way," Dr. Gryczynski was saying.

Jemma clutched Fitz's sleeve as he turned and stared at her. "Oh my--"

"--God, he was--"

"--in our se--"

"--ssion!"

"Drs. Fitz and Simmons, if you'd be so kind as to stand up?" he looked out over the crowd, shading his eyes and trying to pick them out.

Fitz leapt to his feet and waved, Jemma jumping up right beside him. This was, quite possibly, the best moment of his life.  

\-----------------------

Jemma held her journal reverently to her chest. Not only had Dr. Gryczynksi -- Zygmunt that is -- signed her copy  _and_ mentioned her in his keynote, he'd actually  _spoken_ with her, with  _both of them_ about their research! She was so happy that she couldn't imagine ever getting over it. 

"I can't believe that actually happened," she breathed. She was so excited, it felt like she was actually  _vibrating_.

"Me neither," Fitz shook his head slowly, a massive grin almost splitting his face in half. "Best. Day. Ever."

"Skip the afternoon sessions?" Jemma suggested. 

"Check out the exhibitor's hall?" Fitz replied. 

"I'll meet you there," Jemma said. "I need to drop off this journal and get out of this suit."

\-----------------------

 _Where are you?_ Jemma texted as she entered the hall.

 _Stark booth._ Fitz replied.  _You've gotta try this_.

 By the time she arrived, Fitz was at the head of a lineup of people. "C'mon!" he waved her beside him.

"But," she looked at the people behind him. 

"No worries," he reassured her. "You're supposed to do it in pairs, and I've been letting people go ahead of me so we could do it together."

"Oh," she smiled happily. "Well, thanks for queuing on my behalf."

"Yeah, no," he grinned back. "You totally owe me for this."

She rolled her eyes. "Bag of pretzels?" she assumed.

" _And_ a chocolate bar," he corrected her. "It's been twenty minutes!"

\-----------------------

Fitz sighed as he stared at Jemma. His eyes moved over her hair to her eyes then down to her lips before moving back up. 

Jemma blinked rapidly as she looked at Fitz. She scanned his jawline and cheekbones, then moved down his nose to his lips and back up past his ear to his eyes. 

"Fascinating," she said. 

"So cool," Fitz enthused. The amount of data being transmitted was astonishing. Almost as astonishing as the fact that it was all projected in front of his eyes without hindering his vision at all. 

"Heart rate, metabolic rate, body temperature," she listed. "I can actually tell how much water you've drunk today!" she laughed.

"This software is amazing," Fitz shook his head in wonder. "The design is just..."

"Do you know how useful this would be to a medic in the field?" Jemma asked.

"Not unless they can make it a bit more portable," Fitz hated to admit. It was a beautiful system, but the sheer size and amount of sensors being used made it less than practical for use outside of a laboratory.

"Well, surely that's just a matter of adjusting the interface to--"

"--use microsensors, maybe several units of --"

"--working interactively instead of indepe--"

"--central data logging system to--"

"--and meta-analysis so--"

The tech from Stark Industries moved his head back and forth between them as if watching a tennis match. "When are you two graduating?" he asked, feeling a bit out of his depth. 

"What?" Fitz asked, removing the apparatus. 

Jemma shook her hair free of the last cable. "We're fast-tracking at the Academy, so hopefully next year."

"The Academy?" the tech asked. "As in, SHIELD Academy?"

Fitz nodded. "Sci-Tech," he clarified. "Not Ops."

When the tech cracked up at that, Jemma glared at him and stood up a bit straighter.

"No, I just..." the tech tried to recover. "Didn't expect you to be there already is all."

" _Yes,"_ Jemma said impatiently. "We're  _so_ young to be Doctors. We  _know_." Rolling her eyes, she grabbed Fitz's hand and moved to lead him off the stage.

"You should put in an application!" the tech called after them.

"For what?" Fitz asked, turning around and pulling Jemma to a stop. 

"To work at Stark."

"I already turned them down," Fitz grinned. "Two years ago." He enjoyed the tech's expression for a moment before letting Jemma lead him away. "Best. Day. Ever," he whispered to himself. 


	6. Day 2: Conference Insta-Besties

"Mmm," Vaughn waggled an eyebrow at the woman running the Hammer Industries booth. "You must be made of beryllium, gold, and titanium," he said smoothly. "Because you are BeAuTiful."

Fitz looked on in horror as that line actually _worked_. Either this woman was _really_ dedicated to her sales position at Hammer, or she somehow found Vaughn _charming_. He shuddered at both options, not sure which one was worse.

"Hurry up, Jemma," he whispered under his breath, attempting to engross himself in an information packet in order to avoid seeing more of... _that_.

\--------------------------

Jemma dried off her hands and then moved back to the bathroom mirror. She ran a quick hand through her hair and grabbed her lipgloss out of her pocket.

"You're Dr. Simmons, aren't you?" asked the young woman at the sink next to her.

 "Yes," she smiled. "Were you in our session this morning?" she asked, rubbing her lips together to coat them evenly.

The other girl laughed self-deprecatingly. "No," she admitted. "I was presenting at the same time, unfortunately." She shrugged and held out a hand. "Angela Borbély."

"Oh!" Jemma said, pleasantly surprised. "You're working in genome sequencing, aren't you?"

"That's right," Angela replied, obviously flattered at being recognized. Moving over to the door, she held it open for Jemma to pass through first. "What are you doing for dinner? Maybe we could talk shop?"

"Definitely," Jemma enthused. "Do you mind if I invite my partner, Fitz? We're here together, and I'd feel bad leaving him in the lurch."

"Oh, of course!" Angela agreed. "I'm here with my boyfriend, too. I'll give him a quick call, and we can all meet up."

Jemma opened her mouth to correct her, but she was already turning away to make her call. Shrugging, she got out her own cell and texted Fitz.

 --------------------------

Fitz wiped his mouth with his napkin before tossing it down on his plate. "That," he said emphatically, rubbing his stomach. "Was  _amazing._ "

" _So_ good," Jemma agreed, folding her own napkin and placing it on the table. "How did you find this place?"

Angela curled herself around her boyfriend's arm. "Tim showed it to me," she explained, looking at him fondly. "He grew up here, so he knows all the best places to eat."

"Well, if we're ever all at a conference in Glasgow," Fitz offered, "I'll return the favour."

"Deal," Tim grinned.

\--------------------------

"So it's totally scalable and highly parallel, with raw throughput significantly greater than that of state-of-the-art capillary  electrophoresis instruments," Angela was explaining. 

"Thus reducing time and costs," Jemma concluded, excitedly. "Oh! I _wish_ I'd been able to attend your presentation!"

"I'll send you the powerpoint," Angela smiled.

"Do you actually understand what they're talking about?" Tim asked Fitz as the two of them walked behind the women.

Fitz shrugged. "In a general sort of way," he nodded. "But I'd need Jemma to walk me through it before I could _do_ anything with it, y'know?"

Tim laughed. "I'm a linguist," he grinned. "I'm just here for the free trip back home."

\--------------------------

Jemma hugged Angela as they were parting ways in the hotel lobby.

"Are you sure you don't want to come to the wine and cheese?" Angela asked. "It'd be great to have someone there to talk to."

"Hey," Tim poked her in the ribs. "What am I? Chopped liver?"

"You know what I mean," she sighed with a smile.

"Can't," Fitz shrugged. "Not 21."

"Ouch," Tim made a face. "They won't even let you in the room?"

"They're worried that if we see the alcohol we'll immediately start binge-drinking," Jemma said sarcastically.

Angela laughed, "I'll text you in the morning and we can get breakfast."

"Sounds great," Jemma agreed, turning towards the elevators.

"Oh hey," Fitz suddenly remembered, turning back. "Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Where's the nearest pharmacy?" he asked. "We need to pick up a couple of things."

"Ahh," Tim gave him a knowing look and a nod. "If you go two blocks down and make a left, there's one just up the hill on the corner."

Fitz nodded back with a confused look on his face. "Thanks."

\--------------------------

"How can you eat that?" Jemma asked as they walked back down the hill towards their hotel. She was carrying a bag with her nose strips as well as some ear plugs, some gummie bears, and a bottle of Fresca.

Fitz pointed to his jumbo ice cream cone as he licked one dripping side. "This?" he asked, twirling it along his tongue.

"Yes, that," Jemma shuddered, looking away.

"It's ice cream," Fitz shrugged, as if that were explanation enough.

"I _mean_ ," Jemma explained. "Aren't you still full from dinner?"

"That was over an hour ago!" Fitz exclaimed, licking up another drip.

Jemma sighed and shook her head. "We should really look for a way of harnessing the energy in your metabolism," she said. "It could probably power a city block."

"You're just jealous," Fitz said, twisting the cone along his tongue one more time.

"Of the fact that you can't survive more than five minutes without something in your mouth?"

"Of the fact that I can eat whatever I want and stay skinny."

Jemma looked him up and down appraisingly, her expression clearly stating that she was not as impressed as he might have hoped. "Yes, because I really want the figure of an 11-year-old boy," she said.

Fitz gave her an appraising look of his own. "More like a 12-year-old girl," he decided.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You better run, Fitz," she warned.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, eyes shining as he backed away from her. "Or what?"

"Or you'll be wearing that cone as a hat!" Jemma shouted, chasing after him.

Their shouts and laughter echoed across the lake.


	7. Day 2: Conflict and Resolution

Fitz had long-since lost his ice cream cone, having thrown it at Jemma when she was in danger of catching up to him. She might be small, but she was fast. Now, he was tripping and stumbling his way down the beach by the lake, laughing with each strained breath he managed to get.

"Just," he half-shouted over his shoulder at Simmons. "Give it up," he panted, slowing to a quick jog. "I've got," he huffed, "Longer legs."

Jemma reached into the pharmacy bag she'd managed to hold on to throughout their chase and took out the bag of gummie bears. "Yeah?" she shouted back, panting and laughing just as hard. "Well, I've got," she huffed, "Ammunition."

"Wha--?" Fitz didn't even manage to get the word out before he was pegged in the back of the head and collapsed face first. He was just lifting his head up to spit out the sand when Jemma landed on him, effectively pinning him to the ground.

"Victory!" she shouted, raising her arms in celebration.

"No fair," Fitz groaned, head collapsing onto his arms. "You threw candy at me! _Candy!_ " She'd used his one true love against him. That'd be like him taking her down with science.

"Yes," Jemma replied unsympathetically as she pulled her ice cream stained top away from where it was sticking to her body. "I wonder wherever I might have got that idea?"

"You really shouldn't steal other people's ideas, Jemma," Fitz lectured her in his most patronizing voice. "Frankly, I'm disappointed in you."

In retrospect, he really should have expected to get his face shoved into the dirt.

Jemma eased off of him enough for him to turn over. "Are you ready to apologize now?" she asked with the haughty inflection she knew irked him most.

"If I do," Fitz rolled his eyes, "Will you get off me?"

"Maybe," Jemma shrugged, casually taking her Fresca out of the bag. "Depends on how sincere you are," she explained.

" _Wait, don--!"_ Fitz shouted, eyes widening as he saw that she was about to open the bottle. But he was too late. A fountain of soda burst out all over them.

Jemma screamed and jumped off him, dropping the bottle in the process and drenching him even further. Once out of the direct path of the spray, she looked immediately apologetic. "Oops?" she winced.

Fitz closed his eyes and heaved a rather put-upon sigh. "Yeah, I'd say we're even?" he asked.

Jemma nodded, pursing her lips together and trying not to laugh. "Mmhmm," she agreed with a strangled cough. She held out a hand and helped pull him to his feet.

"I get first dibs on the shower."

\-----------------------

"Hey," Fitz yelled, pounding on the bathroom door. "I called dibs!"

"That was _before_ you threw me into the lake," Jemma shouted back.

"I thought you were a better swimmer than that," he explained. "And I _did_ jump in and fish you back out again."

"Rescuing me from danger _you put me in_ doesn't count as rescuing," Jemma fumed as she turned on the shower. She was going to sign up for swimming lessons just as soon as they got back to the Academy.

"Can you at _least_ give me a towel?" Fitz begged as he stood shivering in his soaking wet clothes. Thankfully the wine and cheese reception had been in full swing when they squelched their way through the lobby. He didn't think too many people had noticed. He hoped.

The bathroom door opened a crack and a bare arm threw a towel in his general direction. It landed on his face.

"Thank you," he mumbled through the terry cloth.

The only response from the bathroom was the sound of the shower door being closed with more force than was necessary.

Fitz unfolded the towel and took in its tiny proportions. It was barely more than a flannel.

Jemma could be ruthless when she was angry.

\-----------------------

Jemma made doubly sure that her towel was secure before she unlocked the bathroom door. In her haste to get into the shower first, she'd neglected to grab a change of clothes. Apparently, almost drowning had really affected her organizational skills. 

"Fitz?" she asked through the cracked door. "I'm coming out now," she informed him. "Are you decent?"

There was a bit of rustling around for a moment and then Fitz replied, "C'mon out."

She stepped into the room to find Fitz wrapped in one of the extra blankets. He held a Tshirt and pair of pants in one hand while the other kept his makeshift toga closed.

"You look ridiculous," she snorted, taking it all in.

"Like you look any better," he snorted back, nodding at her tangled, wet hair.

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Just get in the shower before you catch cold," she told him, moving towards her bag to grab her pyjamas.

"If you were that worried about me," he snarked on his way past, "You would have let me go first."

"I was just giving you the chance to be a gentleman," she explained, sticking her tongue out at him.

"I'd rather stay a selfish prat, if you don't mind," he stuck his out in return.

"I'll make note of that for future reference," she grinned, accepting his apology.

"Please do," he grinned back, forgiving her for losing her temper.

"Room service?" Jemma asked, picking up the menu.

"Definitely!" he agreed, feeling his stomach rumble at the thought of food.

"Burger and fries with extra mustard?"

"And tea, yeah."


	8. Night 2: Things That go Bump in the Night

Fitz woke up to a heavy, painful feeling in his lower abdomen. He spat out several strands of hair that had made their way into his mouth and rolled away from Jemma and onto his back. Another stab of discomfort made itself felt, and he winced. Perhaps the chocolate lava cake had been a poor idea after all.

He tried to keep his groaning silent as he massaged his swollen belly, not wanting to wake up Simmons. His whole face felt flushed, and he was covered in a thin layer of sweat. He'd kicked off his blanket burrito at some point in his sleep and was now lying on top of the fitted sheet in an old MIT shirt and a pair of briefs, but he still felt unreasonably warm.

Looking over at Jemma curled up on her side and snoring much more quietly now that she had nose strips, he carefully slid off of the bed. As he left, she rolled over onto her back and flopped her arm across the mattress where he'd been lying. He snorted and rolled his eyes. He might hog all of the blankets, but given her druthers, Jemma would starfish out and take up the entire mattress.  He shook his head and sighed. She couldn't even wait until the mattress was cold.

His thoughts were interrupted by another spasm in his gut, and he realized that the situation had two possible resolutions: neither of which would be best served in their bedroom. With one hand clutching his stomach and his mind full of prayers, he staggered over to the bathroom.

"Sorry, Jemma," he whispered as he closed the door. He leaned his head against the cool surface for a moment, trying to resign himself to his fate.

This wasn't going to be pretty.

\-------------------

Jemma scrunched her face as she woke up feeling slightly disoriented. She was spread out across a bed much larger than the one she had at the Academy, and after a moment she remembered she was in a hotel. Rubbing her eyes with the back of one hand, she sat up and looked around for Fitz. When she'd fallen asleep, he'd been spooned up behind her in an effort to keep her on her side and (hopefully) not snoring. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

She was just deciding that he must be on a midnight snack run when a soft groan emanated from the bathroom. Sitting up further, she noticed the light on under the door. Satisfied with the solution to that mystery, she settled back onto her pillow to wait for him to return to bed.

Except his groan was followed by silence. No toilet flush. No running water. No opening of the door. No Fitz settling back down on the mattress beside her. Her brows knit together. What was he...?

Her brows rose up and she blushed. No, he wouldn't do _that_ would he? She was in the next room!

" _Ohhh fuck_!" Fitz groaned in a harsh whisper, obviously trying not to wake her up.

She shifted awkwardly around on the mattress, not sure what to do. Should she plug her ears? Leave the room? Tell him she could hear him?

Another groan punctuated her thoughts, and she immediately cast aside that last idea.

She bit her lip and looked toward the bathroom again. She wondered how long he'd been in there already? If he was almost... done? She squeezed her eyes shut tight and reprimanded herself. Fitz was having a _private moment_ , and she shouldn't be out here analyzing it.

She _really_ shouldn't be wondering what he was thinking about.

" _Damn and blast!_ " came another whispered shout through the wall, followed by what sounded like a fist hitting the vanity counter. Jemma's eyes widened and she couldn't control her gasp. Apparently, she knew less than she'd thought about ... that particular activity.

\-------------------

Fitz stared at his pale, sweaty face in the mirror and then splashed it with cold water. He felt like his insides had been through the ringer, and now his too-hot feeling had changed to shivering. Grabbing his toothbrush, he set about righting his currently noxious breath situation. 

He briefly pondered taking a shower, but since he had to hold onto the counter in order to keep himself upright, he figured that would be a bad idea. He really didn't need Jemma having to come in and fish out his naked, drowned corpse.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he opened the bathroom door slowly and eased back into the bedroom. He tiptoed over to the bed and was just gingerly sitting down on the edge when he paused and frowned. He'd heard Jemma snoring enough times in his life to know what it sounded like, and it didn't sound like _that_.

"Jemma?" he whispered suspiciously. Oh god, what if she'd heard all that racket in the bathroom?

The snoring intensified, and so did how fake it sounded.

Fitz sighed and covered his face with his hands. "Jemma, I know you're awake," he said resignedly.

He looked over his shoulder at her from where he was still perched on the side of the bed. One of her eyes opened, and she looked distinctly uncomfortable.

"Hi," she whispered, opening the other eye.

"You heard, didn't you?" he asked, lying down on his back at the very edge of the bed and staring at the ceiling.

She nodded her head. "But just the..." she caught herself up short. "I mean, when you..." She let out a small noise of discomfort. "Only the last couple of minutes," she finally said.

Fitz blew out a breath. So she'd missed the bit where he'd puked his guts out but heard the bit where things were going in the other direction? _Great._

"I'm really sorry about--"

"No! You did what you, um, needed...?"

"--stupid thing to--"

"--we _all_ do somet--"

"--n't have eaten that--"

"--dmit I've been tempt..."

"What?"

"What?"

"What are you talking about?" Fitz asked, frowning in confusion.

"What are _you_ talking about?" Jemma asked, realizing that she might have made a mistake.

"... Food poisoning?" Fitz asked, his voice rising in register as he squinted at her carefully.

"... Me too?" Jemma replied, her voice even higher as she tried her best to look innocent.

Fitz looked at her again, squinting even harder, but unable to think of what else she could have been talking about. "Anyway," he said slowly, still not entirely sure what was going on. "I don't suppose you have some kind of ... medicine?"

"For...?" Jemma asked delicately.

Fitz blushed and cleared his throat. "An upset stomach," he said firmly.

Jemma shook her head and sat up, throwing her legs over the side of the bed. "Unfortunately not," she said regretfully. Standing up, she padded over to her bag to grab some clothes.

"What are you...?" Fitz asked, looking over at the alarm clock. It read a little past three in the morning.

"That pharmacy is open 24 hours," she said, shrugging and pulling her jeans on over her pajama shorts. "I'll be back in 20 minutes."

Fitz groaned and pulled himself back up off the bed.

"What are _you_ doing?" Jemma asked, a disapproving look on her face.

Fitz grabbed his trousers off the back of the desk chair and struggled them on. "You can't wander around a strange city at 3am on your own," he sighed, running a hand through his sweat-dampened curls. "Now let's go."

She opened her mouth to protest, but the look on his face brooked no arguments. A sick Fitz was a grumpy Fitz, and a grumpy Fitz was better left alone.

 


	9. Night 2: Awkward Encounters

Jemma watched Fitz on the elevator ride down. Really, he looked more tired and sweaty than green around the gills, but she supposed that food poisoning was a definite possibility with the way he'd been eating all weekend. Or more accurately, all his life. 

The doors dinged open, and they exited onto the linoleum floor of the lobby. It seemed the party was still in full swing, and any number of otherwise upstanding scientific minds looked to be pretty well off their faces. Fitz and Jemma exchanged a look much like parents who are disappointed in their rambunctious children and then plunged into the crowd. 

"Ahh, Simmons," slurred an enthusiastic voice off to their right. "And Fitz, _of course_ ," the same voice said in a tone that conveyed how incredibly unsurprising it was that the two of them were together.

"Professor Vaughn," they replied in unison, sharing another look. This one was more like deer who are trapped in the headlamps of an oncoming train. 

"Looks like you've ridden the poor boy to near exhaustion," Vaughn laughed, saluting Jemma with his glass of wine. "Well done, my girl! Didn't know you had it in you!" 

Jemma's jaw worked up and down as she tried to think of a response. Meanwhile, Fitz turned an interesting shade of puce. 

"And well done  _you_ ," he continued, winking at Fitz conspiratorially. "I didn't know  _you_ had it in her, either!" he laughed uproariously at his own joke.

Fitz's eyes widened as the puce drained off to an unhealthy shade of off-white. His brain froze, unable to supply him with anything to say. 

"Just come down to fuel up, have you?" Vaughn asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "The oysters are long gone, but I doubt you need them, eh Fitz?" He elbowed him jocularly in the stomach. "Ah, to be 18 again," he sighed wistfully, looking off into the distance.

Jemma took in the look on her best friend's face and decided that discretion was the better part of valour. "Actually, professor, we're just stepping out to the pharmacy," she started, but his laughter cut her off before she could explain further. 

"Run out, have you?" he asked, still chuckling. "I thought you'd be better prepared than that, Simmons!"

Jemma started to protest, but he waved her off unconcernedly. "Now, now," he placated her, "I know you're not to blame." He raised a critical eyebrow in Fitz's direction. "Your young man here should be taking some responsibility, as well," he advised, clamping a heavy hand on Fitz's shoulder. "I expect you to do right by this young woman, Leopold," he warned, shaking a stern finger in front of Fitz's nose.

Fitz, for his part, followed the finger with his eyes and nodded his head weakly. This was quite possibly the worst night of his life, and there was still no end in sight. 

"She's got quite a good head on her shoulders," Vaughn continued lecturing, "And we don't need any young lotharios mucking it up!"

Fitz turned an incredulous face to Simmons and mouthed  _lothario?_

Jemma simply stared at the spectacle in front of her and tried to process everything that was happening. 

"That said," Vaughn tilted his head towards Fitz and wrapped his arm around him in a fatherly manner. He lowered his voice and looked significantly at Jemma before whispering rather loudly in the general vicinity of Fitz's ear, "If you need any advice on the art of pleasing a woman..."

Fitz straightened up immediately, shrugging the arm off his shoulders and looking nervously toward his best friend. "I think I'm alright, sir," he squeaked, his voice cracking midway through the sentence. Clearing his throat, he tried to even out his tone. "You might want to think about going to bed now."

"Eh?" Vaughn asked, frowning deeply. "The night's hardly half over!" he said dismissively. Then he belched. 

"I think you might have... overindulged," Jemma suggested delicately. "And you're scheduled to present at the first session in the morning." 

"Nonsense," Vaughn barked, waving away the suggestion like it was an annoying fly. "I'm  _perfectly_ sober," he insisted, throwing his shoulders back to stand up straight and then losing his balance slightly. He burped again quietly as he recovered his footing and peered at them blearily. "Now, what was I saying?"

Fitz and Jemma exchanged a look which contained an entire conversation. 

"I think you were going to your room?" Jemma asked vaguely. 

"Something about turning in for the night," Fitz confirmed. 

"Right, right," Vaughn nodded, studying the floor and frowning with the effort of concentrated memory. Looking back up, he asked, "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure."

"Oh yes, indeed."

"Right then," he harumphed and nodded, pointing one waggling finger toward the elevator. "Onwards and upwards!" he laughed. 

"Yes, sir," Fitz said, sighing as their professor staggered off. He bit his lower lip and avoided looking at Jemma.

Jemma twisted her hands together and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "So," she breathed weakly. 

"Pretend that didn't happen?" Fitz asked hopefully.

"Oh god yes," she said, laughing and sighing in relief. Looping her arm through his, she lead the way across the lobby and out the front doors. 

 


	10. Night 2: Nothing's Ever Easy

Jemma walked alone up the hill to the pharmacy, mentally weighing her options.

She and Fitz had spent the walk from the hotel deciding what they might like to do the next day. Several of the presentations on schedule looked like promising starting points for research, and of course there were the big names in their respective fields that they didn't want to miss.

Looking back over her shoulder, she saw Fitz sitting on the bench where she'd left him. He looked absolutely miserable, face buried in his hands, and she felt a pang of guilt for not fully believing him when he'd said he'd been ill in the bathroom. He hadn't sounded _ill_ in there, but she'd agreed with his story in order to save him the embarrassment.

Now, though, after a remarkably slow walk down the street in which Fitz had gurgled with every other step, she admitted that he really _was_ in a bad way. Poor thing.

She pulled open the door and was greeted by a tired-looking teenager who was sweeping the floor lazily, more moving the dust around than actually cleaning it up.

He glanced up at her with a bored look on his face. "Condoms in Aisle 3," he said and yawned.

Jemma rolled her eyes. _Honestly_. There was more to life than _sex_.

She had just found the aisle with digestion medicines in it when her phone beeped.

Texting back with a smile, she went back to the front of the store to pick up a basket. He was going to need some bismuth, gum, ginger ale...

\----------------------

Fitz sat on a bench and watched as Jemma climbed the hill to the pharmacy. He'd managed to walk the two flat blocks from the hotel with a minimum amount of discomfort, but the hill that had seemed like a gentle slope earlier in the evening now looked like an intimidating mountain.

He shook his head and blushed again as he remembered what his professor had said to them. He wasn't sure which was worse: his commentary on their fictitious love life or the fact that he wanted to give them tips to improve it.

Fitz buried his face in his hands and groaned, then he looked up quickly to make sure Jemma hadn't been waylaid by muggers or bandits. She was just entering the store.

Relaxing slightly in the knowledge that she was in a well-lit area equipped with security cameras, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth and concentrated on not throwing up again. Maybe he should text her to pick up some gum too, just in case?

He busied himself with that task for a moment, then returned to his breathing exercises.

Why was everyone at this bloody conference so interested in him and Jemma being a ruddy couple, anyway? He was used to that at the Academy where there weren't really any other age-appropriate possibilities, so everyone just assumed they'd date each other. But here? This conference was supposed to be about  _science_ not  _romance._

He tilted his head back up and opened one eye to see if Jemma were on her way back yet, but she hadn't yet emerged from the store.

Smiling to himself as he read Jemma's reply, he shrugged and gave up on that train of thought. Obviously, too many people out there subscribed to the heteronormative propaganda of When Harry Met Sally that stated that men and women simply could not be friends.

Shifting to a more comfortable position on the bench, he started mentally writing the story of a man and a woman who _could_. Perhaps he'd call it When Fitz Met Simmons.

\----------------------

Jemma ran down the last part of the hill and paused only to check for traffic before dashing across the street.

"What's the problem, officer?" she asked the policeman who was questioning Fitz with a very dour look on his face.

He turned and looked her up and down, seeming rather unimpressed with what he saw. "Nothing to see here, miss," he said dismissively. "Just be on your way."

"It's just a misunderstanding, Jemma," Fitz reassured her, smiling wanly. "We'll have it cleared up in a moment."

The policeman turned to her once more. "Your _boyfriend_ here," he said, jabbing a thumb in Fitz's direction. "Is being questioned on suspicion of underage drinking."

 _"I'm not drunk!"_ Fitz protested loudly, waving his hands in frustration.

The officer pinned him with a look. "I'll thank you to calm down there, son," he said sternly. "And I don't see too many _sober_ people throwing up in the city's garbage cans."

Jemma tapped the officer politely on the arm and took a step back when he wheeled on her. "I'm sorry, Officer," she said meekly. "But he's really _not_ drunk," she promised. She opened up the pharmacy bag for his inspection. "He's got food poisoning."

The policeman looked suspiciously into the bag and then glared at each of them in turn. "Then what's he doing out here for, then?" he asked brusquely.

"I wasn't going to _bloody well_ let her walk around a strange city _alone_ was I?" Fitz asked testily, clearly not yet in control of his temper.

"He just wanted to make sure I was safe," Jemma explained in calmer tones.

The officer looked at them both again, this time allowing himself to crack a smile. He chucked Fitz on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble and flipped his notebook closed. "Alright, sonny," he allowed. "I'll let you off with a warning this time." He tipped his hat at them and turned to depart. Then looked back with a parting piece of advice. "But next time you're feeling sick in a strange city? Just ask the hotel front desk. They'll get the medicine for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shout out at the end there to notapepper who made the excellent point that they didn't need to go to the pharmacy at all :D


	11. Day 3: A Rare Quiet Moment

Once they'd gotten back to their room, Jemma made sure that Fitz was well-hydrated and had taken the proper dosage of medication. She'd even managed a couple of hours of fitful sleep in between her bedmate rushing off to the washroom. 

She woke up feeling stiff and rolled her head from side to side. Arching her back slightly, she was careful not to move too much in her seated position with her back against the headboard. Fitz was curled up in his usual foetal ball, but instead of using a pillow his head was cradled on her lap. She smiled as she ran her fingers through his curls. The poor thing was exhausted. 

His eyes fluttered open, and he yawned so wide his jaw cracked. 

"Shh," she said softly, smoothing her hand across his brow and back through his curls again. "Go back to sleep."

"But you'll miss the conference," Fitz mumbled, nuzzling deeper into her lap and pulling the blankets tighter around his shoulders. 

"I'll be fine," she reassured him, laughing quietly. "Just you rest now, alright?"

He didn't reply because he was already fast asleep again.

Jemma sighed as she looked at his face, so bizarrely tranquil and unlike its usual animated self. She felt the simultaneous lead weight and butterfly wings in her chest and chastised herself. Now was  _really_ not the time to indulge in her ridiculous crush.

No matter  _how_ adorable he looked.

Instead, she did what she always did when she started finding her best friend a bit too  _interesting:_ she distracted herself. Reaching over for the Conference Guide, she started rereading the various sessions outlined for the day and tried to decide which ones she most wanted to attend. 

She was just deciding between "Apoptosis: Death Machinery and the Pathways to Activate Cell Death" and "Multidrug Resistance Mediated by the Multidrug Transporter" when her cell phone beeped on the bedside table. She jumped slightly in surprise and then winced, hoping she hadn't woken Fitz. She also blushed as she realized she'd continued stroking his hair without noticing. She lifted her hand and curled her fingers into her palm before reaching over for her phone. 

It was Angela wondering if she wanted to meet up. 

"Mmm?" Fitz mumbled, raising his head up slightly and peering at her with bleary eyes. 

"Angela wants to get breakfast," she said, holding up her phone in explanation. 

Fitz closed his eyes and nodded, then pushed himself off of her lap to collapse face-first on the bed beside her. "Bon appetit," he groaned, the words just barely discernible from where they'd been buried in the mattress. 

"Are you sure?" Jemma asked, gnawing her bottom lip as she glanced between him and her phone. 

"Go," Fitz insisted, waving a hand vaguely. "I'll be fine."

"Well..." she hesitated. 

With a grunt of effort, he rolled over to look at her, wiping at his eyes to better focus. "Really, Jemma," he insisted, yawning widely again. "I'm good."

"But..."

"Really."

Screwing up her mouth in indecision, she squinted at him for a moment before nodding and texting back. "I'll bring you back some tea," she offered in trade.

"Ta," he sighed and rolled over onto his face again. 

With one final look over her shoulder to be sure he was alright, Jemma grabbed her clothes and stepped into the bathroom to shower and start her day. 

\--------------------

"That's terrible!" Angela sympathized. Then, a horrible thought occurred to her. "You don't think--"

Jemma laid a calming hand on her arm and smiled. "I'm pretty sure it was the shrimp at the welcoming reception. They seemed a bit past their prime to me, but Fitz just about ate his weight in them." She rolled her eyes and chuckled. "Cocktail sauce might make them taste better, but it does absolutely nothing against e. coli."

"Oh, good," Angela sighed in relief. "I mean, not that it was the shrimp, of course, just that it wasn't..."

"... The restaurant you recommended, I know." Jemma smiled again. "Anyway, it's a real shame but I think Fitz is going to miss today's sessions. He's worn out, the poor thing."

"I'd imagine so," Angela nodded vehemently. "But at least he had you to take care of him, right? It could be worse!"

"Right," Jemma agreed. "We  _both_ could have eaten the shrimp." _  
_

Both women made a face as they contemplated the logistics of two people with food poisoning sharing one hotel bathroom. 

"That's too horrifying to even _imagine_ ," Angela shuddered.

" _Definitely_ ," Jemma agreed with a shudder of her own. "More pleasant topic of conversation?" she asked. 

"One of the presenters today is from the Body Farm, and she's got some really excellent corpses with her," Angela said excitedly. 

"I saw that!" Jemma replied, brightening considerably. "Once we're done our breakfast, I'll just run some tea up to Fitz and then we can go and take a look." She started eating more quickly, not wanting to waste a moment. "I hear she has an absolutely  _fascinating_  specimen of necrotizing fasciitis!"

"Mmm!" Angela noised her enthusiasm around a mouthful of egg. 

The day was already looking up.


	12. Day 3: Conversations over Corpses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI, there's some vague discussion of corpses and cadavers and things, but I tried to keep it relatively vague. My apologies if you end up like Fitz :P

"So, how did you and Fitz meet, anyway?" Angela asked as they gloved up and prepared to poke and prod cadavers.

"We're classmates at the Academy," Jemma answered, leaning over to get a closer look at a particularly interesting wound.

"That's so nice," Angela smiled, turning her own attention to the propped-open rib cage. "Tim and I met at my best friend's bachelorette," she shook her head and winced. "She was supposed to kiss a guy and get his phone number, but she wimped out, and as her maid of honour I stepped up."

Jemma's eyes widened and her jaw dropped into a horrified grin. "You didn't!" she gasped.

Angela nodded with both pride and chagrin. "Walked right up to him at the bar and asked him flat out if I could stick my tongue down his throat," she held up their corpse's heart and and put on a cheesy grin. "It was love at first kiss!" Replacing the heart in the chest cavity, she moved on to the liver. "Not exactly the kind of story you want to tell your mum, though," she said with an eloquent expression on her face.

Both women laughed and returned to their inspection of the body in front of them. The detailed notes provided were excellent, but they were both of the mindset that if they had the chance see things for themselves, they would.

After a minute or two, Jemma shook her head and chuckled humourlessly.

"What?" Angela asked, making special note of an unusual colour change.

"It's just," Jemma shook her head again wryly. "I can't imagine saying that to someone _I know_ , let alone a complete stranger!" She met Angela's eyes and smirked. "Although, I have to say, you certainly chose wisely."

Angela smirked back. "Oh, he's the Holy Grail alright," she said, rolling her eyes, but it was clear she wasn't being anywhere near as sarcastic as she seemed. "I dare you to try it on Fitz," she laughed, "...But maybe wait until he's feeling better."

Jemma tried valiantly to quell the blush that was creeping over her face. "Um, no," she said quite firmly. "I don't think I will." She turned back to the cadaver, pretending intense interest in an area she'd already carefully catalogued.

"Oh come on," Angela teased, nudging her with her elbow. "What guy _would_ _n't_ want his girlfriend to take charge every now and again?"

"I'm _not_ his--" Jemma bit her lip to keep herself from voicing her frustration. "We're just _friends_ ," she eventually said in a calmer tone.

"Oh god!" Angela brought a gloved hand up to her mouth but stopped herself before actually making contact. "I'm so sorry!" she apologize with a horrified expression. "I'd just assumed..."

"It's fine," Jemma said with an awkward smile. " _Everyone_ just assumes," she rolled her eyes.

Angela winced and scrunched up her nose. "Well, I'm sorry to be another assumer," she said, taking off her gloves and placing them in the biohazard bin. "Hug?"

Jemma laughed and tossed her own gloves in the bin, as well. Stepping into the hug, she reassured her, "It really _is_ fine."

Angela smiled with relief. Then she tutted sympathetically as she looked more carefully at Jemma's face. "Oh, honey," she whispered and hugged her again, tighter this time.

Jemma was surprised by the other woman's sudden, intense embrace. It was almost as if she _knew_...

Her stomach flopped over and her chest felt tight. She blinked as her eyes prickled, and she sniffed in a quick breath through her nose. Oh great. And now she wanted to start _crying_. She pasted a smile onto her face and rolled her eyes. "Sorry," she said, backing away. "Bladder the size of a pea." She gestured over to the bathrooms as she walked out the door. "I'm just going to..."

Angela nodded with a look of complete understanding on her face. "Meet you over at the floater?" she asked with false cheerfulness.

"Sounds good," Jemma agree with an enthusiasm that was just as fake. Then she walked as quickly as she dared into the toilets and locked herself in a stall.

Blowing her nose with a wad of toilet paper, she tamped down on her unruly emotions. "Really, Jemma," she said to herself. "There's no reason to get this upset. It's a silly little crush and you'll get over it like you always do and everything will be _fine_." She nodded brusquely and stood up, flushing her impromptu kleenex in the toilet.

All she had to do was ignore it and it would go away. It always did. 

\----------------------

Fitz rolled himself over and looked at the clock radio on the bedside table. 11:15. That boded well. Jemma had left for breakfast at... He blinked and yawned, trying to remember. Shrugging, he rolled back the other way and off of the bed. It must have been breakfast time, anyway, and here it was hours later and he'd slept the whole morning. Perhaps his digestive system had finally settled down a bit. 

As he stood up, his stomach gurgled slightly. With a slightly panicky expression on his face, he rifled around on the little table in the corner of the room and grabbed the pharmacy bag in triumph.

With another dose of medication thus administered, he set about having a shower and getting dressed for the day. If he hurried, he'd be able to grab a good seat for the luncheon keynote.


	13. Day 3: Keynote

Fitz texted Jemma as he got dressed after his shower. He was hoping she'd save him a seat for the keynote because he was definitely going to be cutting it close. It wasn't his fault that the shower had put him to sleep again. He was just glad that it was small enough he hadn't fallen over.

He got into the elevator and immediately blushed. It was already occupied by one of the men he'd seen... well,  _seen_ on the first night of the conference. After a wide-eyed double take when he first entered, he turned resolutely to the doors and watched as the numbers ticked down.

"Do I know you?" asked the man, looking at him with the wrinkled brow of someone trying to remember something.

Fitz shook his head quickly, glancing over before immediately staring at the numbers again. "I don't think so," he mumbled, going slightly redder in the face.

"You seem familiar somehow," the other man continued, now looking at him in an appraising way that was doing nothing to help Fitz stop blushing. 

"Nope," Fitz shrugged, glancing quickly again and looking away just as fast. "Must have that kind of face." He stared at the numbers as they counted down. How slow _was_ this elevator, anyway?

"I didn't buy you a drink at the reception?" the man pressed, turning fully towards him.

"I- I don't drink," Fitz stuttered. Did he have some sort of sign on his forehead asking people to hit on him or something? Why did this never happen with girls his age?

"How about a coffee, then?" the other man said as the doors opened up into the lobby. "My name's Mark," he held out a hand. 

"Fitz," Fitz replied, shaking it loosely and gulping awkwardly. "And um-"

"Fitz!" Jemma called, waving at him from a few meters away. 

Mark looked from him to Jemma and back again. "Ah," he smiled knowingly. "Can't blame a guy for trying, can you?" he smiled. 

Fitz looked from Mark to Jemma and back again. Maybe being mistaken for a couple was a good thing? It was certainly easier than trying to turn him down. He smiled awkwardly and shrugged, not sure what to say. 

"Have a good day," Mark said, turning towards the publishers. 

"En- enjoy the conference!" Fitz eeked out. Then he slapped a hand over his eyes and shook his head. Wow. He was even bad at flirting when he wasn't trying to be flirty. Thank god Jemma was easy to talk to.

"Was that...?" she pointed after Mark as she walked up to Fitz.

"Mhmm," he nodded, trying to look nonchalant.

Jemma squinted at his face and he could see her try not to smile. "Why are you blushing?" she asked, and he wasn't fooled for a moment by her casual tone. 

"No reason," he said shortly. "I thought you were going to save me a seat?" he asked. 

"Uh huh," Jemma nodded skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "Nice topic change."

"Shut up," he muttered, blushing brighter again. 

"C'mon," she laughed, taking his hand and pulling him towards the dining room. "Angela's got us a table."

\-----------------------

"You don't look so good," Jemma said 15 minutes later as the soup course was being served. They were currently busy not paying attention to the various introductions and thank-yous and acknowledgements happening on stage ahead of the keynote. 

Fitz was looking flushed, and not from embarrassment this time. She reached out to press the back of her hand against his clammy forehead. 

"You're burning up," she said, a worried look on her face. 

"I'm fine," he replied through clenched teeth, waving her hand off of him. 

"You're  _not_ ," she said firmly. "You're about to throw up again, aren't you?"

He shook his head briefly, but started to look rather greener than red. 

"Yes, you are," she said. She'd seen enough of it last night to know the warning signs. "Let's get you to the bathroom."

"I'm fine, I can-" he stopped suddenly and swallowed hard. 

" _Now,_ " Jemma insisted, pulling him up from his seat. She turned to Angela, "We're just going to-"

"Totally," Angela nodded. "Take care of him, will you?" she smiled. 

Jemma smiled back and hustled Fitz out of the room toward the bathroom in the lobby. 

Fitz was breathing shallowly and swallowing often, concentrating on the floor in front of him as Jemma hurried him across the linoleum. 

When she pushed the squeaky door to the men's room aside and started to enter with him, he halted mid-step with such force that she stopped too. "Jemma," he said, clearly horrified. "This is the  _men's_ room."

"Yes," Jemma nodded. "And you need to throw up."

"You can't come in here!" he protested.

"And I'll let you argue that point to your heart's content  _after_ you've been sick," Jemma nodded, pushing him ahead of her through the door. "Lady coming in," she called out. "I won't look if you don't show."

"Jemma!" Fitz gasped. 

"Hush," she insisted, maneuvering him past the empty urinals and into the accessible stall. 

"But-"

"Just kneel, Fitz," she said, pointing to the bowl as the door squeaked again.

"Sorry to interrupt," came a disembodied male voice. "Just need to drain the lizard. Don't mind me."

"Oh, we won't," she called back, enjoying the scandalized look on Fitz's face. "C'mon, Fitz," she winked at him. "Just kneel down here in front of me. It'll be fine. He said he doesn't mind."

Fitz's mouth worked up and down a few times as he tried to think of something to say. 

Out at the urinal, the man flushed and they heard him zip up. "Have fun you two," he chuckled and the door squeaked again as he left. 

"I can't believe you-" Fitz started out, chagrined. But then he convulsed slightly, his cheeks puffing out as he swallowed whatever came up, and then he fell to his knees in front of the toilet. 

Jemma sighed and knelt beside him, rubbing his back gently. "It's not as much fun shocking you when you're sick," she observed, averting her eyes from his heaving. 

He spat into the bowl a few times before managing, "And yet," he said grimly. 

She smiled at him as he glared at her. "I didn't say it wasn't  _any_ fun," she clarified. 

And then he was throwing up again. 

\-----------------------

Fitz lay on the hotel bed with his head in Jemma's lap again. She was holding his tablet in front of them so they could both see the video stream Angela was sending from her phone. 

"Thanks," he said quietly, not looking up from the screen.

"What for?" Jemma asked distractedly. She was trying to take notes with her free hand. 

"For being the best best friend in the world," he said, twisting his head to look up at her. She was frowning and biting her lower lip as she wrote the name of some reference the keynote speaker was making. He felt her tense up for a moment, but then she relaxed and he figured she must have had a problem spelling the researcher's name or something. 

She looked down at him and smiled, putting her pen down and brushing his curls back from his forehead before leaning down and giving it a kiss. "You're welcome," she said. 

Girls were so weird. He gave her a compliment, and she looked like she wanted to cry. 

He shrugged awkwardly and twisted his head back to its previous position. "Keynote's good this year, yeah?" he asked. 

Jemma sighed behind him, and he was sorry she had to watch it on a tablet instead of in person. "Yeah," she agreed. He heard her pick up her pen and return to taking notes. She really was the best best friend ever.


	14. Night 3: Farewell Party

"He's out for the count, huh?" Tim asked, grabbing a shrimp ball from a passing server. "What do you think did him in, anyway?" he asked as he popped it in his mouth.

Jemma winced visibly. "The shrimp at the opening reception, most likely," she said delicately.

Tim's face moved from polite interest to concerned confusion to horrified realization, and then he spit his mouthful out into his cocktail napkin.

"You don't say," he said wryly as he grabbed another napkin and wiped his tongue with it.

Angela wrinkled her nose and closed her eyes. "Really, hon?" she asked a bit incredulously. "Seriously?"

"Hey, you want me to end up like Fitzy-boy up there?" he nodded meaningfully towards the upper floors of the hotel.

"Sometimes," Angela whispered under her breath, winking at Jemma.

Jemma pressed her lips together to contain her urge to giggle. A snort escaped, and she tried to push it back in with her hand.

Tim narrowed his eyes and mock-glared from one woman to the other. "I get the sense that my honour has been impugned," he said pompously.

Angela leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, ruffling his hair as she did so. "Aww, babe," she said patronizingly. "You need to _have_ honour before it can be impugned."

\------------------

Fitz sighed and clicked through the hotel's TV channels for the fifth time, still not seeing anything worth watching. Turning it off, he tossed the remote onto the mattress beside him and picked up his tablet again.

He knew he was bored when even the internet didn't haven't anything to interest him.

It just sucked that Jemma and everyone were down there in the hotel ballroom at the farewell ceremony eating food that would probably send him running to the bathroom again.

He swore for what was probably the millionth time. He loved food _so much_ , and this is how it repaid him? Talk about a harsh mistress.

And he'd thought _Jemma_ was bad when she was pissed.

Still, it could be worse. He could be down there _schmoozing_ and running away from scary old ladies with grabby hands.

He shuddered. Best not go down that road. His stomach still wasn't at 100% yet.

Reaching out with a grunt, he grabbed the remote again and turned the TV back on. It was almost time for shows to change. Maybe he'd have better luck this time.

\------------------

Jemma sighed as she watched Angela and Tim slow dancing. She wanted _that_. Was that too much to ask for?

All she wanted was someone who loved and respected her. And laughed with her and challenged her. And didn't let her get too serious all the time.

And that was Fitz, wasn't it?

Except she also wanted someone who looked at her the way Tim looked at Angela. Who would hold her like that, like she was something... precious. Someone who didn't just love her, but was _in love with her_.

Jemma sighed again.

And that _wasn't_ Fitz, was it?

She picked up her fork and played with the piece of chocolate mousse cake on her plate. If Fitz were here right now, all that would be left would be a smear on the porcelain... and that's if she managed to get it away from him before he licked it clean.

She shook her head and chuckled. Then she sighed again. How in the world were you supposed to get over someone you spent 80% of your waking moments with?

\------------------

Fitz finished brushing his teeth and flipped the bathroom light off. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to bed at 9pm, but there really wasn't anything else for him to do.

He wished Jemma would forget about the party and come upstairs again. They could play online scrabble together or do their homework together or talk shit about the conference together. Anything, really.

He groaned in frustration and punched his pillow to fluff it up.

But noooo. She had to go down and 'network' and 'be seen' and 'promote their research.' He rolled his eyes in disgust. She could do all of that just as well online, couldn't she? She didn't have to abandon him in his hour of need to go downstairs in some fancy dress to talk to a bunch of strangers.

 _He_ was her best friend, wasn't he?

He might have been a bit premature in labeling her the best best friend ever.

Traitor.

\------------------

"No boyfriend tonight?" asked a deep voice beside her, and Jemma startled as a handsome young man dropped into a seat at her table.

"Excuse me?" she asked, not yet correcting him.

"It's just, this is the first time I've seen you alone all weekend," he continued, flashing her a winning smile. "And it's also the most beautiful I've seen you all weekend." He held out a hand. "I'm Bryant Weatherall, but please call me Bry."

Jemma shook it firmly as she measured him up. Tall. Almost too tall, really. Square jaw. Athletic. Strong nose and cheek bones. Remarkably symmetrical. She could certainly do worse.

"Bry," she nodded and smiled. "I'm Jemma. Jemma Simmons." She took a deep breath and made up her mind. "And it's no boyfriend at all," she clarified. "Not just tonight."

Bry's smile widened considerably at this news. "So it's alright for me to ask you to dance, then?" he asked with a flash of dimple.

"Ask me and find out," she answered with a raised brow.

If you can't have the one you want, want the one you're with.


	15. Night 3: Afterparty

Jemma felt a shiver run through her as Bry's tongue slipped into her mouth. It felt so wonderful to be kissed, and he was quite a good kisser. She felt his hands move down her back slowly to rest just at the top of her bum, and when she didn't protest, they moved further down. She sighed against his lips. This was just what she needed to get over...

Fitz. 

As soon as she thought it, she couldn't get him out of her head. Suddenly, she was thinking about  _Fitz's_ hands cupping her backside and  _Fitz's_ lips pressing against hers. She wanted the straight black hair under her fingers to be brown and curly instead, and she wished that the tall man in front of her was a more average height. 

She broke her kiss with Bry and pressed her fingers to her lips. 

"Something wrong?" he asked, moving his hands quickly back up to her waist. 

Jemma smiled at him and shook her head. "Just needed to catch my breath," she said, looking at him carefully and trying to memorize his face. Maybe if it were more familiar, it wouldn't be so easily replaced in her mind?

"Sorry to interrupt," Angela smiled, sidling up next to them with Tim in tow. "But can I borrow her for a moment?" she asked, pointing to Jemma.

"Oh, uh," Bry stammered in surprise, letting Jemma go completely and taking a step back. "I mean, of course," he said, regaining his smooth exterior. 

"I'll be right back," Jemma smiled to Bry. Then she turned an angry look to Angela. "What-?"

"Just be a second!" Angela said brightly, looping her arm through Jemma's and tugging her rather forcefully towards the ladies' room. 

Jemma had just enough time to hear, "Tim. And you are...?" before she was dragged bodily away. 

\--------------------

Fitz rolled over again and punched his pillow. It had to be one in the morning by now. Where the hell was Jemma? They were  _supposed_ to get an early start on the road tomorrow so they could make it back to the Academy in time for her to check in on one of her experiments. It was  _her_ experiment, and  _he_ was the only one worried about it? Honestly, he'd expected more from her.

He rolled back the other way and threw off the now hopelessly-tangled sheets. 

If he'd gone down there with her, she'd have been in bed by now. He'd have dragged her away from whichever  _fascinating_ person had her trapped in a dead-end conversation, and they'd have come back up here to mock everyone and get a good night's sleep before the drive back. It was past two by now, and that meant a long drive with a cranky Jemma. Ugh. 

Rolling onto his back, he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ceiling. How was he supposed to sleep when it was three in the bloody morning and his best friend was god knows where doing god knows what with god knows who?

"That's it," he said finally, rolling out of bed with an angry spin and a determined look on his face. He was going to go down there and drag her back up here to get some proper rest. If she'd even get any at four A-bloody-M.

He was just about to turn to his suitcase to grab some clothes when his eye caught a glimpse of the time on the hotel's alarm clock.

10:09PM

\--------------------

Angela pulled her unceremoniously into a stall in the ladies' room and sat her down on the toilet seat.

"What in the world are you doing?" she whispered harshly, hands on her hips.

"What are _you_ doing?" Jemma whispered back, just as harshly.

"Making out with some random guy you met at a conference?" Angela asked. "Honey, no."

Jemma rolled her eyes, "And why not?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "We're both adults."

Angela looked up at the ceiling and appeared to be counting to five in her head. Finally, she blew out a breath and looked back down at Jemma, this time with sympathy. "You know, if you're trying to make Fitz jealous..."

"He's not even here!"

"No, but half of your profs are, not to mention a dozen mutual acquaintances and professional contacts. Do you really think _not one of them_ is going to ask him who you were playing tonsil hockey with behind a potted palm?"

"I- Well, that is- But-" Jemma floundered.

"If you've decided to move on, then go ahead," Angela continued. "Make out to your heart's content. _But_ ," she held up a finger of warning. "If you're not ready to give up on him yet, then _use your words_ and tell him you like him."

Jemma's horrified look spoke volumes as she shook her head.

"Aw, c'mere," Angela pulled her up and into a hug.

\--------------------

Fitz was just straightening his tie in the bathroom mirror when he heard voices right outside of the hotel room door. He couldn't tell what they were saying, but one of them sounded like Jemma and the other one was definitely a man. He was about to open the door for them when she came in looking a bit flushed. 

"Was that Tim?" he asked, moving to peer past her out the door.

"No," Jemma said, pressing a hand to his chest to keep him where he was. "It was... it wasn't Tim."

He frowned in a sort of facial shrug. "Nice of him to see you back to your room. Who was it?"

Jemma opened her mouth, but instead of saying anything she brought her hands up to grip the back of her neck and walked further into the room. "Just... another attendee," she said, digging around in her suitcase for something.

It seemed a bit weird that she didn't give him a name, but he figured whoever it was wasn't a name he'd recognize. "Not one of the presenters then?" he asked, moving over to the bed and pulling her pajamas out from under her pillow and holding them out to her.

"Thanks," she smiled gratefully. "And no, not a presenter."

Fitz nodded and reached up to loosen his tie. Bit of a blessing she came in when she did. Meant he didn't have to go down there all dressed up like an idiot and pretend to care about people he might never see again.

Jemma looked at him in surprise, finally taking in his clothing. "Were you on your way down?" she asked.

He grinned back, unbuttoning the top two buttons on his dress shirt. "Well, I figured _someone_ had to save you from all of the letches down there."

She gulped and spun around so her back was towards him. "It's fine," she reassured him. "Tim and Angela were very helpful."

"They're properly fun, aren't they?" he asked with conviction as he rolled up his sleeves. "I quite like Tim, even if he isn't in the sciences."

"Yes," Jemma agreed, her voice slightly muffled. "And Angela's... well, she's just wonderful." She turned back around and her smile faded into an O.

"We'll have to have them out to the Academy next Open House," he agreed. Then he noticed she didn't seem to be moving to get changed. "Need help with your zip?"

She blinked at him, looking for all the world like she had no idea what he was talking about. "Pardon?"

"It's just," he explained. "You needed help doing up your dress when you were getting ready, and you've got your jim jams there, so..." He held out his hands in the universal gesture you-tell-me.

"Oh, yes. Right," she nodded but just kept looking at him like he had a growth on his face or something.

"So..." he leaned forward, eyebrows raised. "Is that a yes for help?" He was starting to wonder if she'd been drinking at the party.

Jemma looked at him for a moment longer before turning around again. "Please," she said, lifting her hair out of the way.

He moved up behind her and pulled gently on the zipper, being careful not to catch it on the delicate material of her dress, until it was down between her shoulder blades. No need to go further, since she'd managed to do it up that far earlier. "How's that?" he asked, stepping back.

She reached behind her and grabbed the tab, pulling it down a bit further, and now he could see the clasp of her bra. He turned to the bed and picked up the remote.

"You get changed," he suggested, adjusting the pillows against the headboard. "And I'll find something for us to watch and you can tell me how horrid the party was."

"Back in a mo'," she smiled and kicked off her heels before padding into the bathroom.

Fitz sat down on the bed and frowned.


	16. Night 3: Ohhh

Jemma looked herself in the face as she washed off her makeup. Why did everything have to be so confusing? She didn't want to have a stupid crush on Fitz. He was her best friend! The _last_ thing she wanted to do was mess that up by having ridiculous _feelings_ about him. And Bry! Well, he wasn't going to be anything other than a pleasant memory of course, but the way he'd kissed her... _Unf._ Those kisses had made her _want to do_ things that she certainly wasn't going to do with a man she'd just met.

She bit her lip. Of course, she wasn't going to do them with the man currently in her bed, either. And doing those things with Bry would require talking to Fitz about _needs_ and... things.

She splashed her face with water again. No. That wasn't going to happen.

Patting her face dry, she couldn't stop herself from groaning into the towel. Why did she have to have _emotions_ , anyway? What sort of purpose did they serve? And why was she having _all_ of them right _now_?

With a sigh, she dropped her dress to the floor and pulled down her panties to pee.

" _Ohhh_ ," she said as she looked down. Well, that explained things.

She reached down and picked up her dress, slipping it back on and going back out to the bedroom.

Fitz looked over at her as she came back in. "Forget something?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Jemma said vaguely, hoping against hope as she started rooting through the pockets of her suitcase.

"Want some help?" he asked, moving to get off the bed.

"Nope!" she said brightly. "I'm fine, thanks." She dug further into the pocket where she _knew_ she'd stuffed a tampon, just in case. Damnit. Where the hell was it? She scrabbled around desperately, but to no avail. After similarly ransacking the other pockets and coming up empty, she sighed and groaned. Was this night _never_ going to end?

"Problem?" Fitz asked, his voice sounding uncertain.

Jemma set her shoulders and pasted a smile on her face before turning to him. "Zip me up again?" she asked. "I need to go down to the gift shop for a minute."

"What do you need?" he asked, scooting his way off of the bed and reaching for his wallet on the hotel room's desk.

"I can get it," Jemma assured him.

"Oh, c'mon Jem, you just got back. I don't mind," he smiled, pulling his jeans on.

"No, really, Fitz. I'll just be a minute." 

"You're tired and I've spent the whole evening cooped up in the room. I'll go." He started to head toward the door.

"You _really_ don't want to, Fitz." She prayed internally that he'd just let it go.

"Seriously. What do you need?" His hand was on the knob now.

"Nothing!" It wasn't bad enough she had to share her bed with the boy she had a crush on, now he wanted her to tell him... _that?_

"It's not nothing if you're going to get dressed and go back downstairs for it," he chuckled, confused by her resistance.

"Don't worry about it!"

"Will you just-"

"Tampons! _Okay?_ I've got my period!"

She'd shouted it at him. Her eyes widened to take up half of her face and both of her hands clapped over her mouth in horror.

"Your..." Fitz gulped. One hand came up to gesture vaguely in her direction and his mouth opened briefly before snapping shut again.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other in mutual horror.

Finally, Fitz cleared his throat. "A-alright," he stammered, looking anywhere but at her. His eyebrows rose as he took in a quick breath. "Sooo, then, you..." he brushed a hand along the back of his neck. "What, uh," he looked at her briefly and then looked away again. "Wh-wh-," he shifted from one foot to the other, taking his hand off of the doorknob and then putting it back. "What brand?" he asked, his voice at least a half an octave higher than usual.

Jemma goggled at him and wished the floor would open up and swallow her. Was he seriously offering to...? "What?" she asked in desperate disbelief.

"For your," he pointed an awkward hand at her stomach region, opening it up and sort of waving it vaguely. "Your," he hesitated. "For _that_ ," he concluded.

"What?" Jemma asked again. This was a nightmare. This was a horrible, horrible nightmare, and if she just woke up none of this would be happening.

Fitz looked up at the ceiling and blinked a lot more than usual as he continued trying to explain. "Because ladies," he stopped short again, blowing out a breath. "Ladybits?" he asked. He took a quick look at her face and immediately realized that was not the route to go down. "There's, um," he cleared his throat. "There's brands?" he continued. "And um, sizes? And... things?" His face was scrunched up to a painful-looking degree.

Jemma felt at least as miserable as he looked. _Why_ was he still talking? "Stop talking," she whispered. Her eyes implored him to go back to the TV and forget this awful moment had ever happened. She was honestly starting to think she might _die_ of embarrassment. "Please?" she interrupted when she saw his mouth opening again.

"But-"

"For the love of _God,_ " she squeezed her hands into fists at her sides.

"It's okay, Jemma," he said in a falsely upbeat voice. "My mum uses them, too."

Jemma turned away and buried her face in her hands. This wasn't just embarrassing. This was _mortifying_. "Kill me," she groaned.

"It's fine!" Fitz insisted again. Except he was using the tone he used when she brought out her biology texts and he made an excuse to leave the room. "I'll just-"

Jemma groaned again.

"Get some Midol, too," he mumbled.

"Oh _God,"_ Jemma moaned, throwing her head back and staring at the ceiling. What had she done in a previous life to deserve this to happen to her? This _had_ to be a nightmare, didn't it?

But then the door was opening and Fitz was gone and she still hadn't woken up.

\-------------------

Fitz unlocked their hotel room door and peered around it to see how Jemma would react to seeing him again. She seemed to have changed into her pajamas, and she was wrapped up burrito-style in a blanket watching TV. He was probably safe.

"I got you, um," he cleared his throat. "Uh, pads, um instead," he said awkwardly, holding a bag out to her. "Since I didn't know what kind of... of..." he saw her wince and decided that discretion was probably called for. "And there's some Advil and some chocolate in there, too," he added.

Jemma half-smiled but still didn't look at him as she took the bag. "Thanks," she mumbled.

"Oh!" he said, quickly pulling the bag back. "Pretzels are for me, though," he grinned and handed it to her again.

That managed to get a laugh out of her.

"See?" he said, raising his eyebrows and peering at her, willing her to look at him. "No big deal, right?" he asked.

Jemma pinned him with a look so eloquent Shakespeare himself could have taken lessons from it.

He raised his hands up in defense. "Alright, slightly big deal?" he tried.

Jemma laughed and shook her head, finally turning toward him and standing up. "Thanks, Fitz," she said in defeat.

"Hey," he joked. "If you can help me when my entire digestive system decides to work in reverse," he explained, "Then I can help you when your uterus is turning itself inside out."

Jemma shook her head with a wry smile. "While both of those things are biologically impossible," she said, sniffing slightly and blinking rapidly as she came over to give him a hug, "I appreciate the sentiment."

"Good," he said sincerely. He held her at arm's length and stared into her eyes. "Are we good?" He held his breath.

"We're good," she nodded, smiling. 

"Alright!" he cheered. "Now, go get yourself sorted out, and I'll queue up a movie for us."

Shaking her head and chuckling, she went back into the bathroom.

Fitz grinned and searched for _Carrie_.


	17. Day 4: Wake Up Call

Jemma stared up at the hotel room ceiling as Fitz breathed softly beside her. She'd requested the seasonally-inappropriate but always uplifting _It's a Wonderful Life_ , but when that hadn't been available they'd ended up with _Some Kind of Wonderful_.

Never before had she spent 2 such awkward hours trying to act like she wasn't watching some alternate universe story of her own current fantasies.

Thankfully, Fitz was too preoccupied with pretzels to notice.

Also thankfully, he seemed to be keeping the pretzels down.

Looking back over the past few days, the conference had been... Well, it had been  _something_ while simultaneously also being  _something else_ , and she was going to need some time to reflect on it and fully take in everything that had happened. 

Zygmunt Gryczynski had referenced their work in his keynote.  _Zygmunt Gryczynski!_ She was going to be glowing about that moment for at least a year. Even now, just remembering it, she couldn't help but smile with pride and delight.

And then that rep from Stark trying to recruit them. Hah! As if a dozen others before him hadn't tried. They might go into private industry some time a long way in the future, but for now both she and Fitz were dedicated to S.H.I.E.L.D. and a rich weapons manufacturer wasn't going to tempt them. Not even with the toys they'd seen at the trade show.

She shuddered at the memory of Professor Vaughn acting like some sort of Don Juan-esque frat boy despite his Coke-bottle glasses and comb-over. The fact that it seemed like he was somewhat successful with his antics was just mind-boggling, to put it mildly. Really, she'd always known that things like that happened at conferences, but she was always on the edges of that particular subset of attendees. Being drawn into the circle was a bit uncomfortable, to put it mildly. She'd have to work out ways to avoid it before that symposium she was speaking at in February. 

But at least she'd met Angela and Tim. They were just lovely. Both such caring and friendly people, and so obviously in love with each other.

Jemma sighed. They joked and teased as much as she and Fitz did, but they also flirted and held hands and danced like they were the only two people in the room. It would have been perfectly romantic if it weren't so perfectly heartbreaking. Watching them was like watching everything she wanted to have but couldn't.

Could she?

She rolled onto her side and stared at the top half of Fitz's head where it was sticking out of his blankets.

He was her best friend, but he was also her secret crush. Was there any way at all he could be something more? If she tried to get what Tim and Angela had, would Fitz be willing to give it a go? Or would he run screaming in the other direction? Or maybe he'd just let her down easy. Would any of those scenarios allow them to keep their friendship, keep working together? Would they have to choose between romance and everything else?

 _"If you've decided to move on, then go ahead,"_ Angela had told her _, "But if you're not ready to give up on him yet, then use your words and tell him you like him."_

That's really what it came down to, in the end. Either she wanted to give it a go or she wanted to keep things the same, and until she could figure that out for herself she couldn't say anything to Fitz.

With a sigh, Jemma threw off her blankets and gave up on sleep. Padding over to the hotel desk, she sat down and got to work on the monogrammed stationery provided.

When in doubt, make a list.

\-------------------

Fitz smacked his lips and made a face as his tongue slid around in his mouth. Had he been eating pretzels last night or feet-flavoured cheese? Ugh. This is why he hated falling asleep without brushing his teeth first. If that stupid movie hadn't been so boring... 

Shaking his head, he threw off his bundle of blankets and stood up. He was rather surprised to see Jemma slumped over asleep at the desk with a pen still half-gripped in her hand. She must have got up to write down some brilliant idea or other. He chuckled and rolled his eyes affectionately. Those middle-of-the-night notes never made sense when she woke up, but she insisted on writing them anyway in case she forgot whatever brainwave had hit her.

"Jemma," Fitz whispered, shaking her shoulder gently. She groaned and shifted position but didn't wake up.

He laughed again, quietly. Since when did _he_ wake up before the alarm went off while Jemma slept in?

"Jems," he tried again, a bit louder this time. No response. "Wakey wakey, Jemma baby," he sang obnoxiously. He knew that's how her mother used to wake up when she was a child, and he also knew that she hated it when _he_ did it.

Jemma groaned that time. "You did _not_ just..." her irritation cut off into a yawn.

"I did," Fitz confirmed with a cheerful grin. "You've still got half an hour before the alarm goes off, and I thought you might like to try sleeping in a _bed_ like a _normal_ person."

Jemma sat up and her face crumpled into a wince as she moved out of her awkward sleeping position. "Oof," she sighed unhappily. "You're not wrong."

"Am I ever?" he asked cheekily. He held up a quick hand when he saw her open her mouth. "Don't answer that!" Maybe he wasn't as awake as he'd thought if he was setting himself up for insults like that. "Anyway, are you going to move over there yourself? Or do you want me to manhandle you into bed?" He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned down at her.

His frown turned into an expression of surprise almost immediately when, instead of grumbling and trooping over to faceplant on the mattress like she'd usually do, Jemma blushed beet red and seemed frozen in her seat.

Fitz gulped a bit awkwardly. They said stuff like that to each other all the time, but apparently all of the sex talk at this conference had had an effect. He was desperately trying to figure out what to say to get past the uncomfortable moment when Jemma finally stood up and moved past him to the bed.

"Right," he said, still feeling a bit lost and looking everywhere _except_ at his best friend. His eyes landed on the desk and he took a step towards it. "So, what was last night's brilliant idea?" he asked, trying to find a way back to normal through a sudden minefield he'd had no idea existed.

" _No!_ " Jemma shouted, jumping up from where she'd been halfway to sitting down.

Fitz stopped in his tracks and turned to her with wide eyes. What in the world was going on with her this morning?

"I mean," she continued, twisting her fingers together and not meeting his gaze. "I'm still thinking it through. Not ready to," she looked up then and their eyes met, and then she looked right back down again. "Not ready to talk about it yet," she finished lamely.

Fitz shrugged, still completely confused and feeling like he was somehow missing at least half of their conversation. "Okay..." he said cautiously, scuttling past the desk and over to his suitcase. "Mind if I shower first then?"

Jemma smiled wanly and gestured to the bathroom. "Be my guest," she said rather weakly before almost collapsing onto the bed.

The poor thing was totally knackered. Same thing happened to him when he slept at his desk.

"Don't worry Jems," he tried to buck her up. "You just let me know when you've got that idea all sorted, and I'm sure I'll be totally gobsmacked."


	18. Day 4: Goodbyes

Fitz handed their room keys back to the front desk clerk with a smile. It was amazing how easy it was to smile when your own body wasn't trying to turn itself inside out anymore.

He'd still be writing a rather pointed Yelp review about his stay, but perhaps he'd leave out the actual curse words.

 _Most_ of the actual curse words.

He wasn't so happy about keeping down a bag of pretzels that he'd forget throwing up what felt like every meal he'd eaten for the last six months.

When he turned away from the front desk to head over to where Jemma had been saying goodbye to Angela and Tim, he was surprised to see a new person had joined their group. He reminded Fitz more of the Operations cadets than his usual classmates, but he supposed this one must be of the same opinion as Lucy that a strong mind deserved a strong body. He approached the group with his smile still in place, not relishing the idea of meeting another "FitzSimmons" groupie, but holding out hope that whoever this was had more interesting things to do than fawn over a pair of prodigies.

"Fitz," he introduced himself, holding out his hand. "Were you here for the conference?"

The tall, muscular man standing next to Jemma shook his hand quite solidly. "Hey, _you're_ the one I thought was Jemma's boyfriend!" he chuckled and shook his head in self-deprecation. "I'm Bry," he introduced himself in return. "And I'm sorry for assuming."

Fitz laughed wryly in response. " _Trust_ me," he said with feeling. "You are _not_ the first person to think that." He grinned at Jemma and rolled his eyes in mock frustration.

"Happens _all_ the time," Jemma confirmed with an answering roll. But she was using the overly peppy tone of voice she used when she was nervous. Why was she nervous? Fitz narrowed his eyes slightly, trying to read her face, but she just turned to Angela in order to exchange email addresses.

Fitz kept chatting amiably with Bry and Tim while the two women made plans to Skype later that week. While his mouth made small talk about the conference and the town, his brain was preoccupied with figuring out what was bothering his best friend.

And then she turned back to their conversation and Bry put his hand on her lower back, and Fitz understood.

Poor Jemma had a crush. _Of course_. She always got a bit strange when she 'liked' someone. This time, though, it seemed as if she'd managed to keep her cool long enough to actually make some progress with this one rather than bowl him over with a wall of nervous science talk that sent an unfortunately large number of young men running in the opposite direction. The idiots. Couldn't appreciate a genius when she was standing right in front of them.

"Hey Tim," Fitz said with sudden inspiration. "You're from around here, right?"

"You know it," Tim grinned.

"Think you can show me a better route back? Our GPS is determined to make us backtrack for half an hour for some reason." With a significant wink at Jemma, he pulled Tim and Angela over to one of the lobby couches and laid a map out on the coffee table. Now she had some alone-time with her love interest, and she didn't even have to make it obvious.

Best. Wingman. Ever.

\-------------------

Jemma was still blushing as she drove out of the hotel parking lot. Bry had taken advantage of their moment alone to tell her that he'd be within an hour's drive of the Academy the following month and that he'd very much like to take her out on a date. She had demurred a bit awkwardly, not exactly refusing but not entirely encouraging him either. She still needed to figure some things out before she made a final decision on that score. But she'd given him her contact information and allowed him to kiss her goodbye.

He really _was_ a good kisser.

But then she'd turned to the group on the sofa, and Fitz was grinning and flashing her a thumbs up.

If that wasn't another note in the 'cons' column, she didn't know what was.

"Sooo," Fitz started as he reached into the glove compartment for a packet of crisps. "Was that the bloke who walked you back to our room last night?" He flashed her a devilish grin and waggled his eyebrows, and she couldn't help but laugh despite herself.

"Yes," she confirmed, not offering further information.

"And was there that kind of kissing before he did?" he pressed in a teasing tone.

Jemma's cheeks reddened further. "Yes," she answered, wishing wholeheartedly that the boy she had a crush on weren't asking her questions about the boy she'd been using to get over him.

Fitz whistled, impressed. "Bow chicka bow wow," he sang, imitating a porn soundtrack.

"Fitz!" Jemma smacked him on the arm, scandalized.

"What?" he shrugged away from her, still laughing. "You know, if you wanted the room I could have given you an hour or two..."

"Oh my god!" she gasped, and only the fact that she was driving and needed to keep her eyes on the road kept Fitz safe from her wrath.

"What you do with your own body is your business..." he continued, crunching a chip noisily, just to annoy her further.

"Fitz, I _swear to God_ if you don't shut it..."

"I mean, you might have your period, but I've heard you can still..."

" **Fitz!** "

He cackled in glee. "Forget the radio," he grinned. "I know what _my_ road trip entertainment is for the way home."

Jemma sighed and steeled herself for a _long_ drive.

 -------------------

Lucy settled down at their table in the Boiler Room and handed out the beers she'd bought, carefully placing Fitz and Jemma's drinks in the middle of the table and then promptly ignoring them. It wasn't the most convenient way for them to have a drink, but it was the safest way of allowing for plausible deniability if anyone decided to take issue with the fact that they were underage.

" _So_ , Jemma," Lucy grinned around the neck of her bottle. "What's this Fitz was telling us about the dreamboat you hooked up with at the conference?"

Fitz spluttered around the mouthful of beer he'd just swigged. "I did _not_ use the word 'dreamboat'!" he protested with an affronted look on his face.

Lucy waved it away. "You gave me a physical description, and I extrapolated," she shrugged.

Jemma squirmed a bit uncomfortably in her seat. Why was everyone always so ruddy _interested_ in her love life? "We didn't 'hook up'," she said a bit primly. "We just..."

"Made out," Fitz finished for her, raising his bottle in a toast of sorts.

"At least I was kissing a _person_ ," Jemma shot back, annoyed. "Instead of _porcelain._ " If he was going to tell everyone about her... lapse in judgement, then she'd tell them all about his adventures in food poisoning. Promise or not.

"Hey now," Fitz held up his hands in defense. "I thought we weren't going to talk about that," he muttered to her out of the corner of his mouth.

"Dude," WooHyun slapped him on the back in congratulations. "How drunk did you _get_?"

"And why didn't _you_ find a hottie to get naughty with?" Lucy asked, eyes full of mischief.

Fitz scoffed and took another sip of beer. "Dating's _ridiculous."_

Jemma stared at her beer and tried not to look too curious while at the same time desperately hoping someone  _else_ would ask the question she was dying to ask. 

"What are you even talking about?" WooHyun asked, looking at him like he was crazy.

"Think about it," Fitz leaned forward and explained patiently. "When you date someone, you're either going to break up with them or get married." He leaned back again and took another sip of beer. "I'm way too young to get married, and I don't see the point of dating someone I know I'm going to break up with."

Jemma stared at the proud smirk on his face and felt the blood drain from her face.

She'd been so preoccupied with _approaching_ Fitz with the idea of dating that she hadn't taken the time to think through how the relationship might... progress.

Marriage or breaking up. He kind of had a point.

She had no idea if she'd ever want to get married at all, let alone to Fitz, but she did know that she didn't want to break up with him.

Breaking up with Fitz would be the worst. _The worst_.

Worse than never dating him at all?

"Earth to Jemma," Lucy said, waving a hand in front of her face. "You still with us, girl?"

"Sorry," Jemma smiled apologetically. "Zoned out for a moment."

"Thinking about marrying or breaking up with the dreamboat?" Lucy guessed.

Jemma couldn't quite keep her eyes from darting over to Fitz before she answered. "Something like that," she nodded. Then she took a long sip of her beer and put the bottle down on the table with more force than was necessary. "But that's a problem for another day," she smiled. "Who wants to dance?"

The rest of the table cheered their agreement and soon all four of them were bouncing on the dance floor. She watched as the lights flashed across Fitz's slightly sweaty smiling face and couldn't help smiling back.

Being best friends with Fitz was better than anything she'd imagined before she'd come to the Academy. She'd never expected to find  _anyone_ she could truly consider an equal, not just intellectually but emotionally. No one else in her life was as unconditionally loyal to her as he was, and no one supported her as staunchly in everything she did. Sure, he could argue with her and fight to make her change her mind, but once she'd made a decision, he did everything he could to make sure it was the right one for her. And if it wasn't? Well, then he was the first one to hug her and let her know it would be alright. He challenged her and frustrated her and made her laugh more than anyone else she knew. He even sometimes completed her thoughts for her, they were so well-tuned to each other.

In a lot of ways, it was better than having a boyfriend, and maybe those ways were enough for now.

Maybe.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably not the conclusion you were hoping for, but this is the conclusion you get. I really did enjoy this universe, though, and I have ideas for a sequel, so you never know... I might just get them together yet. :)


End file.
